-_  -*" 


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d&sypt^ 


LITERARY    PAPERS 


WILLIAM    AUSTIN 


£&itfj  a  Biographical  Sfcctrfj 


BY    HI3    SON 


JAMES    WALKER    AUSTIN 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND    COMPANY 

1890 


Copyright,  1S90, 
By  James  Walker  Adstin. 


TWO    HUNDRED    AND     FIFTY    COFIES    PRINTED. 


University  Press  : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


CONTENTS. 


PlGE 

Biographical  Sketch  of  William  Austin" v-xvi 

Feter  Rugg,  the  Missing  Man 3— 10 

The  Late  Joseph  Xatterstrom 43-58 

Martha  Gardner  ;  or,  Moral  Reaction 61-74 

The  Man  with  the  Cloaks  :  A  Vermont  Legend     .         77-96 
The  Sufferings  of  a  Country  Schoolmaster  .     .     .       99-119 

Letters  from  London 123-327 

The  Human  Character  of  Jesus  Christ      ....     331-372 
Oration  at  Charleston,  Mass.,  June  17,  1801    .     .     375-394 


M209621 


BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH. 


WILLIAM  AUSTIN,  the  author  of  the  Papers  in- 
cluded in  this  volume,  was  the  son  of  Nathaniel 
Austin.  —  of  the  Austin  family  that  settled  in  Charlestown, 
Massachusetts,  about  1638,  —  and  of  Margaret  Rand,  a 
sister  of  Dr.  Isaac  Rand,  well  spoken  of  by  Lorenzo  Sabine 
in  the  Biographical  Sketches  of  American  Loyalists. 

The  earliest  recorded  notice  of  the  Austin  name  in  the 
Charlestown  Records  is  that  of  Richard  Austin,  who  was 
admitted  a  freeman  in  1651,  probably  when  he  became 
twenty-one  years  of  age.  From  this  Richard  descended 
Benjamin  Austin,  commonly  known  as  u  Honestus  ;  " 
Jonathan  Loring  Austin,  secretary  to  Dr.  Franklin  at 
Paris,  and  afterward  Secretary  of  State  and  Treasurer  of 
Massachusetts  ;  and  the  late  Attorney-general,  James 
Trccothick  Austin.  During  the  Revolution  all  of  the 
Austin  name  were  patriots,  stanch  and  active;  and 
Benjamin,  the  father  of  "Honestus,"  was  one  of  the 
number  of  those  whose  appointment  as  councillors  was 
vetoed  by  Governor  Gage. 

There  is  a  tradition  that  two  boys,  brothers,  came  to 
Charlestown  in  1638,  —  one  of  whom  was  Richard  (ad- 
mitted freeman  in  1651,  as  before  stated),  and  the  other 
named  Anthony,  who  first  went  to  Rowley,  Massachusetts, 
and  thence  to  Suffield,  Connecticut.  That  one  of  the 
same  race  as  Richard  of  1651  removed  to  Connecticut  is 


vi  MOGKAPIIICAL   SKETCH. 

beyond  doubt,  but  at  what  particular  time  we  have  no 
evidence.  It  is  stated  thai  from  this  Connecticut  branch 
was  descended  Stephen  Puller  Austin,  by  whose  forecast, 
wisdom,  and  energy,  in  a  large  measure,  Texas  became 
a  part  of  tbe  Union. 

Tbe  two  boys  mentioned  above  were  probably  tbe  "  two 
children"  accompanying  tbat  Richard  Austin  of  Bishop- 
stoke,  England,  enumerated  by  John  Camden  Hottcn  in  his 
"  Original  Lists  of  Emigrants"  as  embarking  from  Southamp- 
ton, bound  for  New  England,  in  the  ship  "  Bevis  "  in  May, 
1638.  No  further  trace  of  Richard,  senior,  lias  been  found  ; 
and  be  is  unaccounted  for,  unless  identical  with  the  Aus- 
tin mentioned  in  Winthrop's  Journal,  who  arrived  in  New 
England  in  1638,  and  whose  subsequent  capture  by  the 
Turks  on  his  return  voyage  to  England  by  way  of  Spain  is 
considered  by  Winthrop  a  judgment  of  God  for  his  dis- 
satisfaction with  the  new  country  and  withdrawal  there- 
from. This  may  be  the  Richard,  as  tbe  date  of  his  arrival, 
1638,  corresponds  with  the  year  of  his  departure  from 
England  ;  but  if  so,  Winthrop  is  in  error  in  stating  that  he 
with  "  bis  wife  and  family  were  carried  to  Algiers  and  sold 
there  for  slaves."  Such  may  have  been  the  fate  of  Richard 
and  his  wife,  but  not  of  the  children,  who  seem  to  have  re- 
mained in  this  country,  and  afterward  appear  as  Richard 
and  Anthony.  There  seems  to  be  more  than  common 
obscurity  in  the  history  of  the  family  until  we  begin  with 
Richard  of  1651,  who  appears  from  the  Charlcstown 
Records  to  have  been  a  man  of  some  note,  and  who  held 
various  public  offices.  From  his  time  the  family  descent 
is  clearly  traced. 

William  Austin,  the  subject  of  this  sketch,  was  born  at 
Lunenburg,  in  the  County  of  Worcester,  Massachusetts, 
March  2,  1778,  and  died  in  Charlestown,  June  27,  1841. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  vii 

The  house  of  his  father  was  burned  in  the  conflagration  at 
Charlestown,  June  17,  1775,  during  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill ;  and  on  the  same  day  the  family  left  for  Lunenburg, 
there  to  remain  until  the  house  was  rebuilt.  During 
the  burning  of  Charlestown  Mrs.  Austin  hastened  with 
her  son  Nathaniel  (William's  elder  brother),  then  about 
four  years  old,  over  Charlestown  Neck  to  Maiden.  She 
never  forgot  the  anxiety  and  distress  of  the  day ;  and 
in  after  years,  still  cherishing  her  Tory  prejudices,  she 
was  always  careful  to  remind  that  son  when  arrayed  in 
regimentals  as  general  of  the  militia,  to  celebrate  the 
17th  of  June,  that  he  was  celebrating  a  defeat,  and  also 
her  flight  with  him  from  the  burning  town. 

The  life  of  William  Austin  was  not  without  incident. 
He  was  graduated  from  Harvard  College  in  the  Class  of 
1798,  —  a  class  of  ability  and  good  character.  Among  its 
members  were  William  Ellery  Channing,  Samuel  Phillips 
Prescott  Fay,  Joseph  Story,  Richard  Sullivan,  Stephen 
Longfellow,  John  Varnum,  and  Humphrey  Devereux, —  the 
last  named  his  room-mate  for  four  years.  Mr.  Austin 
was  chosen  a  member  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society, 
bat  declined  for  two  reasons,  —  one,  because  he  had 
a  strong  dislike  to  secret  societies,  and  the  other,  be- 
cause he  thought  injustice  had  been  done  to  one  of  his 
classmates. 

In  1709  Mr.  Austin  was  appointed  schoolmaster  and 
chaplain  in  the  Navy,  being,  I  believe,  the  first  commis- 
sioned chaplain  in  the  service.  He  sailed  with  Com- 
modores Nicholson  and  Talbot  in  the  frigate  "  Consti- 
tution," and  among  his  pupils  was  John,  afterward 
Commodore;  Downes,  who  years  after,  when  in  command 
at  the  Charlestown  Navy  Yard,  gratefully  said  that  there 
was  one  man,  William  Austin,  to  whom  he  could  always 
cheerfully   take  off  his  hat.      During  the  cruise  of  the 


viii  UIOGRAPIIICAL  SKETCH. 

"  Constitution,"  Commodore  Talbot  commanding,  the  ship 
"  Amelia,"  owned  in  Hamburg,  was  captured  from  the 
French,  and  in  1800  the  court  decreed  that  the  captors 
were  entitled  to  one  sixth  of  the  value  for  salvage. 
Commodore  Talbot  had  expected  more,  and  sent  Mr. 
Austin  to  engage  Alexander  Hamilton  to  manage  the 
case.      At  the  interview,  Hamilton  said  :  — 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  1 " 

"  I  am  the  chaplain,"  was  the  reply. 

"  You  do  not  look  much  like  a  chaplain." 

"  I  intend,  as  soon  as  I  can  afford  it,  to  study  law." 

"Well,  hero  is  my  library;  make  yourself  at  home.     Study  out 

this  case,  and  determine  for  yourself  what  is  the  proper  amount  of 

salvage,  as  you  are  interested." 

Mr.  Austin  accepted  the  invitation,  examined  the  author- 
ities, and  came  to  the  same  conclusion  with  Mr.  Hamilton, 
who  highly  commended  the  researches  and  arguments  of 
the  young  chaplain. 

After  his  cruises  in  the  "  Constitution "  Mr.  Austin 
went  to  England,  and  while  there  enjoyed  the  society 
of  Washington  Allston  and  John  Blake  White,  artists, 
Edmund  Trowbridge  Dana,  son  of  Judge  Francis  Dana, 
and  Arthur  Maynard  Walter.  Walter  was  a  classmate, 
who  took  his  degree  at  Columbia  College,  New  York, 
because  he  had  had  some  difficulty  with  the  Harvard 
authorities,  and  Dana  severed  his  connection  with  the 
College  in  his  junior  year.  They  were  all  genial  men, 
and  their  political  or  other  differences  did  not  affect 
their  social  relations.  These  young  men,  having  been 
intimate  in  America,  their  good-fellowship  in  London 
was  but  natural,  and  they  remained  cordial  friends  as 
long  as  life  lasted.  Austin  gave  a  somewhat  different 
version  of  the  visit  of  the  young  men  to  see  George  III. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  ix 

from  that  given  by  his  classmate  Willard,  in  the  "  Mem- 
ories of  Youth  and  Manhood."  The  account  given  in 
Mr.  Austin's  own  words,  is  as  follows :  — 

"  I  walked  with  White,  Allston,  Dana,  and  Walter  to  Windsor 
to  see  the  royal  family  parade  on  the  terrace.  We  all  had  canes, 
as  was  the  fashion  of  the  time,  and  to  our  surprise,  upon  enter- 
ing the  grounds  these  were  taken  away  by  an  usher.  I  said,  '  I 
hope  you  do  not  think  we  came  to  cane  his  Majesty.'  I  had  seen 
the  king  before  and  knew  his  person.  The  others  spoke  almost  in 
one  breath,  — 

"  'Austin,  which  is  the  king  ? ' 

"  I  said,  '  Do  you  see  that  man  there  ? '  pointing  to  the  king. 

" '  Yes.' 

" '  Well,  that  is  the  rascal  who  burned  my  father's  bam' "' 

Both  house  and  barn  had  been  burned  at  Charlestown, 
but  the  burning  of  the  barn  was  treated  as  the  meaner 
offence.     Willard  states  that :  — 

"  Austin  was  not  born  until  nearly  two  years  after  the  battle  of 
Bunker  Hill,1  but  in  his  childhood  he  could  see  ample  proofs  of 
the  awful  conflagration  in  the  cellar  walls  and  naked  chimneys' 
and  fragments  of  timber,  charred,  but  not  wholly  consumed." 

I  do  not  know  that  I  can  give  any  better  description  of 
Mr.  Austin,  with  some  slight  qualifications  and  additions, 
than  that  to  be  found  in  the  "  Memories  of  Youth  and 
Manhood,"  to  which  I  have  before  referred.  Mr.  Willard 
says : — 

"  At  no  time,  so  far  as  I  can  remember,  did  Mr.  Austin  while  at 
college  show  any  desire  to  excel  in  the  prescribed  studies,  being 
doubtless  of  the  opinion  that  one  has  as  good  a  right  of  choice  in 
the  studies  he  shall  pursue  as  in  the  companions  with  whom  he 
shall  choose  to  associate.     Apart  from  this,  which  was  unjust  to 

i  He  was  born  nearly  three  rears  after  the  battle. 


x  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

himself,  he  employed  much  of  his  time  usefully,  and  was  among 
the  most  distinguished  belle-lettrists  (if  I  may  use  a  word  of  Cole- 
ridge's coining)  of  his  class,  and  wrote  with  far  more  facility  and 
sprightliness  than  the  generality  of  its  members.  .Soon  after  he 
received  his  degree  he  went  to  England  as  a  literary  amateur  and 
observer,  and  wrote  many  letters  home,  which  after  his  return  he 
collected  and  published  in  a  volume.  They  embrace  a  variety  of 
topics,  and  among  them  descriptions  of  some  of  the  most  distin- 
guished Parliamentary  speakers  at  the  close  of  the  last  and  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century,  which  form  an  interesting  part 
of  the  book.  For  his  professional  life  he  studied  law,  and  prac- 
tised in  this  profession  as  an  attorney,  counsellor,  and  advocate. 
His  ideas  indeed  were  quick  and  often  brilliant,  but  his  tempera- 
ment was  impulsive,  and  he  failed  in  that  degree  of  illustrative 
amplification  and  that  continuity  of  thought  which  are  necessary 
to  lead  common  minds  to  the  desired  conclusion.  As  a  companion 
he  was  entertaining  and  instructive,  —  one  whom  it  was  pleasing 
to  meet  even  casually  in  the  street ;  for  there  was  always  some- 
thing uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  one  might  perceive  in  his  ap- 
proach that  he  had  something  to  say,  and  he  said  it  very  abruptly 
perhaps,  and  sometimes  it  was  very  odd,  but  not  infrequently 
suggestive  of  more  than  was  said.  While  in  active  life,  Austin 
belonged  to  the  Democratic  party,  and  for  two  years,  beginning  in 
May,  1822,  he  was  a  member  of  the  Massachusetts  Senate  for  the 
County  of  Middlesex.  It  was  a  time  when  party  politics  inter- 
fered little  with  legislation.  He  was  also  in  1820  a  delegate  from 
Charlestown  to  the  Convention  for  revising  the  Constitution  of 
Massachusetts,  and  upon  some  of  the  proposed  amendments  he 
took  an  active  part  in  the  debates.  In  the  debate  concerning  the 
government  of  Harvard  College  he  manifested  a  liberal  spirit. 
With  his  usual  frankness  he  acknowledged  that  he  had  formerly 
entertained  prejudices,  but  they  had  long  since  been  dissipated. 
It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  there  were  eight  members  of  the  class 
graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1798  who  were  members  of  this 
Convention  ;  namely,  John  Abbot,  William  Austin,  Samuel  P.  P. 
Fay,  Isaac  Fiske,  Henry  Gardner,  Joseph  Story,  Richard  Sullivan, 
and  Joseph  Tuekerman. 

"Though  Austin  wrote  with  facility  from  a  mind  well  stored,  I 
am  not  aware  that  he  contributed  largely  to  the  literature  of  his 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  x} 

times.  His  story  of  Peter  Rugg,  published  in  the  "  Galaxy  "  (a 
paper  conducted  by  Joseph  T.  Buckingham),  had  great  celebrity, 
and  was  copied  in  many  newspapers  and  miscellaneous  journals. 
It  is  a  story  unsurpassed  in  its  kind,  and  so  well  and  consistently 
sustained  that  the  reader  cannot  fail  to  follow  the  hero  in  his 
perpetual  motion  with  a  feeling  of  sympathy  and  anxiety  for 
his  fate." 

What  is  said  of  Mr.  Austin  as  an  advocate  is  partially 
true.  He  could  make  a  close  and  able  argument,  but  I 
think  that  from  the  bent  and  formation  of  his  mind,  unless 
he  thought  his  client  had  a  just  cause  he  could  not  with 
energy  enforce  his  arguments.  He  was  however  a  most 
faithful  counsellor,  and  when  he  officiated  on  trials  as  a 
justice  for  the  County  of  Middlesex,  all  the  Boston  Bar, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  brought  their  Middlesex 
actions   to   his   court. 

In  England  Mr.  Austin  made  acquaintance  with  gentle- 
men of  varied  qualities,  as  will  be  seen  by  his  account  in 
the  "  Letters  from  London."  Among  others  he  became 
acquainted  with  the  celebrated  Lord  Erskine.  On  a  warm 
summer  day  he  attended  the  Sessions,  when  it  was  known 
that  Mr.  Erskine  was  to  address  the  Court.  Erskine  said, 
••  Why.  Mr.  Austin,  what  can  keep  you  in  the  court  such 
an  oppressive  day?"  "A  gentleman,  sir,  by  the  name 
of  Erskine  keeps  me  here ;  he  is  responsible,"  —  a  reply 
which  greatly  pleased  Erskine. 

After  spending  about  eighteen  months  at  Lincoln's  Inn 
in  the  study  of  law,  Mr.  Austin  returned  to  Massachusetts, 
and  soon  after  entered  upon  the  practice  of  his  profession. 
From  this  period  until  his  activity  of  life  ceased,  he 
had  a  throng  of  attached  clients  in  Charlestown  and 
Boston,  who  kept  him  so  much  engaged  that  there  was 
small  opportunity  for  literary  production. 

On  the  17th  of  June,  1801,  three  years  after  his  gradu- 


xii  1;I(h;i;A1'IIK'AL  sketch. 

ation,  Mr.  Austin  delivered  an  oration  on  Bunker  Hill, 
before  and  at  the  request  of  the  Charlestown  Artillery 
Company.  It  was  published,  and  is  worth  reading  as  a 
specimen  of  the  style  of  the  times.  The  essay  on  "  The 
Human  Character  of  Jesus  Christ,"  written  when  the 
author  was  less  than  thirty  years  of  age,  is  remarkable  for 
its  depth  of  thought,  its  beauty  of  language,  and  its  rev- 
erent appreciation  of  the  Son  of  Man. 

Through  the  kindness  of  Col.  Thomas  Wcntworth  Hig- 
ginson,  I  am  permitted  to  include  in  this  Sketch  a  part 
of  his  interesting  essay  published  in  "  The  Independent " 
of  March  29, 1888,  in  which  William  Austin  is  called  "  A 
Precursor  of  Hawthorne."  Colonel  Higginson  writes  as 
follows  :  — 

"  The  tale  which  will,  perhaps,  keep  him  in  lasting  memory  is 
'Peter  Rugg,  the  Missing  Man.'  The  tale  was  first  printed  in 
Buckingham's  'New  England  Galaxy'  for  Sept.  10,  1824;  and 
that  editor  says  of  it  :  '  This  article  was  reprinted  in  other  papers 
and  books,  and  read  more  than  any  newspaper  communication 
that  has  fallen  within  my  knowledge.'  l 

"  The  original  story  purports  to  belong  to  the  year  1820,  aud 
the  scene  of  a  later  continuation  is  laid  in  the  year  1825,  both 
these  being  reprinted  in  the  'Boston  Book'  for  1841.  It  is  the 
narrative,  in  the  soberest  language,  of  a  series  of  glimpses  of  a 
man  who  spends  his  life  in  driving  a  horse  and  chaise  —  or  more 
strictly  '  a  weather-beaten  chair,  once  built  for  a  chaise-body  '  — 
in  the  direction  of  Boston,  but  never  getting  there.  He  is  accom- 
panied by  a  child  ;  and  it  subsequently  turns  out  that  he  really 
left  Boston  about  the  time  of  the  Boston  massacre  (1770)  and 
has  been  travelling  ever  since,  —  the  explanation  being  that  lie  was 
once  overtaken  by  a  storm  at  Menotomy,  now  Arlington,  a  few 
miles  from  Boston,  and  that  being  a  man  of  violent  temper  he 
swore  to  get  home  that  night  or  never  see  home  again.  Thence- 
forth  he  is  always  travelling  ;  a  cloud  and  a  storm  always  follow 

1  Personal  Memoirs,  i.  87. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  xiii 

him,  and  ever}-  horse  that  sees  his  approach  feels  abject  terror. 
The  conception  is  essentially  Hawthorne-like  ;  and  so  are  the  scene 
and  the  accessories.  The  time  to  which  Puigg's  career  dates  back 
is  that  borderland  of  which  Hawthorne  was  so  fond,  between  the 
colonial  and  the  modern  period;  and  the  old  localities,  dates,  cos- 
tumes, and  even  coins  are  all  introduced  in  a  way  to  remind  us  of 
the  greater  artist.  But  what  is  most  striking  in  the  tale  is  what 
I  have  called  the  penumbra,  —  a  word  denned  in  astronomy  as  that 
portion  of  space  which  in  an  eclipse  is  partly  but  nut  entirely 
deprived  of  light ;  and  in  painting,  as  the  boundary  of  shade  and 
light,  where  the  one  blends  with  the  other. 

"  It  is  this  precise  gift  which  has  long  been  recognized  as  almost 
peculiar  to  Hawthorne,  among  writers  of  English.  Miss  Elizabeth 
Peabody,  Hawthorne's  sister-in-law,  stated  it  admirably  when  she 
wrote  in  a  paper  on  '  The  Genius  of  Hawthorne  :''  'He  does  not 
seem  to  know  much  more  about  his  heroes  and  heroines  than  he 
represents  them  to  know  of  each  other ;  but  recognizing  the  fact 
that  most  outward  action  is  of  mixed  motives,  and  admits  of  more 
than  one  interpretation,  he  is  very  apt  to  suggest  two  or  three 
quite  diverse  views,  and,  as  it  were,  consult  with  his  readers 
upon  which  may  be  the  true  one  ;  and  not  seldom  he  gives  most 
prominence  to  some  interpretation  which  we  feel  pretty  sure  is 
not  his  own.'  Then  she  points  out  by  way  of  illustration,  that  in 
'  The  Marble  Faun  '  the  author  does  not  seem  really  to  know 
whether  Donatello  has  pointed  and  furry  ears  or  not  ;  and  such 
illustrations  could  easily  be  multiplied.  Xow,  it  is  precisely  this 
method  which  we  find  in  full  force  throughout  the  story  of  '  Peter 
Rugg,  the  Missiug  Man,'  published  while  Hawthorne  was  yet  a 
student  at  Bowdoin  College. 

"  At  every  point  in  the  narrative  of  this  enigmatical  man  we  are 
thrown  into  this  borderland  between  light  and  shade.  When  the 
driver  points  out  in  Ihe  thunder-cloud,  after  Eugg  and  his  weird 
child  have  driven  by,  the  form  of  the  man,  horse,  and  vehicle,  the 
writer  admits  that  he  himself  saw  no  such  thing,  and  suggests  that 
'the  man's  fancy  was  doubtless  at  fault,'  and  that  it  is  'a  very 
common  thing  for  the  imagination  to  paint  for  the  senses.'  When 
an  old  citizen  tells  the  tradition  of  Rugg's  ill-temper,  that  he  be- 

1  Atlantic  Monthly,  September,  1868. 


xiv  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

came  'so  profane  that  his  wig  would  rise  up  from  his  head,'  the 
dispassionate  historian  is  careful  to  tell  us:  'Some  said  it  was  on 
account  of  his  terrible  language  ;  others  accounted  for  it  in  a 
more  philosophical  way,  and  said  it  was  caused  by  the  expansion 
of  his  scalp,  as  violent  passion,  we  know,  will  swell  the  veins 
and  expand  the  head.'  When  the  author  mentions  the  rumor 
that  on  the  only  occasion  when  Rugg  really  reached  Boston  and 
drove  through  his  own  street,  unable  to  stop  the  horse,  the  clatter 
of  the  animal's  hoofs  shook  the  houses,  he  quietly  points  out  that 
this  was  nothing  remarkable ;  '  for  at  this  day,  in  many  of  the 
streets,  a  loaded  truck  or  team  in  passing  will  shake  the  houses 
like  an  earthquake.'  However,'  he  adds,  '  Rugg's  neighbors  never 
afterward  watched.  Some  of  them  treated  it  all  as  a  delusion, 
and  thought  no  more  of  it.  Others  of  a  different  opinion  shook 
their  heads  and  said  nothing.'  Here  we  have  in  perfection  the 
penumbra  of  Hawthorne. 

•'  Again,  when  the  toll-gatherer  once  attempted  to  stop  Rugg  on 
Charlestown  bridge  and  failed,  the  writer  adds  :  '  Whether  Rugg, 
or  whoever  the  person  was,  ever  passed  the  bridge  again,  the  toll- 
gatherer  never  would  tell ;  and  when  questioned,  seemed  anxious 
to  waive  the  subject.'  Thus  does  Austin,  like  Hawthorne,  actually 
discredit  his  own  witnesses,  half  evoking  them  from  the  shadow, 
and  then  on  second  thoughts  remanding  them  to  the  dusk  again. 
So  in  the  continuation  of  the  story, — which,  as  being  a  con- 
tinuation, is  more  ambitious  and  proportionately  less  effective, — 
Peter  Rugg  appears  with  his  equipage  on  a  Virginia  race-course, 
and  outruns  the  winning  steeds.  One  of  the  riders  and  half  the 
spectators  declare  that  the  stranger  beast  is  not  a  horse  but  a 
huge  black  ox,  —  and,  indeed,  his  tracks  show  the  cloven  foot;  yet 
when  the  horse  is  afterward  examined  on  a  ferry-boat  it  turns  out 
that  his  hoofs  have  been  accidentally  split  on  a  newly  macadam- 
ized road.  So  when  another  toll-gatherer  claims  that  the  horse 
passed  without  touching  the  bar,  the  author  points  out  that  the 
bar  is  so  low  that  so  high-stepping  a  horse  could  easily  draw  a 
two-wheeled  vehicle  over  it.  Thus  at  every  step,  in  the  Haw- 
thorne fashion,  Austin  mystifies  himself  with  the  reader,  and  never 
leaves  one  so  wholly  confused  as  when  offering  him  some  perfectly 
commonplace  elucidation. 

"  The  continuation  of  '  Peter  Rugg'  rises  at  the  close  to  a  cer- 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  xv 

tain  dignity  of  tone  which  justifies  its  existence.  Peter  Piugg  at 
last  reaches  Boston  with  his  weary  child,  at  the  very  moment 
when  an  auctioneer  is  offering  for  sale  his  own  ancient  estate,  now 
escheated  to  the  Commonwealth.  The  house  is  gone,  the  genera- 
tion Eugg  knew  is  gone,  and  all  he  can  do,  while  peering  on  the 
alien  crowd,  is  to  recognize,  in  true  Boston  fashion,  the  features  of 
the  older  families,  —  Window  and  Sargent,  Sewall  and  Dudley. 
'  Will  none  of  you  speak  to  me  1 '  he  says.  .  .  .  '  Will  no  one 
inform  me  who  has  demolished  my  house?' 

"  Then  spake  a  voice  from  the  crowd,  but  whence  it  came  I 
could  not  discern :  '  There  is  nothing  strange  here  but  yourself,  Mr. 
Rugg.  Time,  which  destroys  and  renews  all  things,  has  dilapidated 
your  house  and  placed  us  here.  You  have  suffered  many  years  under 
an  illusion.  The  tempest  which  you  profanely  defied  at  Menotomy 
has  at  length  subsided;  but  you  will  never  see  home,  for  your  house 
and  wife  and  neighbors  have  all  disappeared.  Your  estate,  indeed, 
remains,  but  no  home.  You  were  cut  off  from  the  last  age,  and  yon 
can  never  be  fitted  to  the  present.  Your  home  is  gone,  and  you  can 
never  have  another  home  in  this  world."  " 

"  Who  but  Hawthorne  ever  brought  back  his  readers  from  the 
realms  of  fantasy  by  an  ending  so  much  like  that  of  a  '  Twice-Told 

Tale'?" 

The  Oration  delivered  at  Charlestown  at  the  request  of 
the  Artillery  Company,  June  17,  1801,  was  published  in 
Charlestown,  1801 ;  the  "  Letters  from  London,"  in  Boston, 
1801 ;  the  essay  on  "  The  Human  Character  of  Jesus 
Christ,"  in  Boston,  1807  ;  "  The  Sufferings  of  a  Country 
Schoolmaster,"  in  the  "  New  England  Galaxy,"  Boston, 
July  8, 1825  ;  "  The  late  Joseph  Xatterstrom."  in  the  "  New 
England  Magazine,"  July,  1831;  "The  Man  with  the 
Cloaks,"  in  the  "  American  Monthly  Magazine,"  January, 
1836  ;  and  "  Martha  Gardner,"  in  the  "  American  Monthly 
Magazine,"  December,  1837. 

The  portrait  of  my  father  which  accompanies  this 
volume  is  from  the  painting  by  Pratt. 


xvi  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH. 

My  father  died  in  my  boyhood,  and  now,  after  nearly 
fifty  years,  his  pleasant  smile,  his  kind  heart,  and  the 
light  of  his  countenance  are  still  living  memories.  It 
has  been  a  great  delight  to  me  to  place  and  preserve 
on  the  speaking  page  these  memorials  of  his  life  and 
labors. 

I  am  indebted  to  my  brother,  the  late  Arthur  Williams 
Austin,  of  Milton,  for  information  in  regard  to  much  of 
the  material  that  I  have  made  use  of  in  this  Sketch ; 
and  also  to  my  friend,  Albert  Harrison  Hoyt,  for  his  kind 
assistance  in  helping  me  prepare  this  volume  for  the 
press. 

JAMES  W.  AUSTIN. 

Boston,  September,  1890. 


PETER  RUGG,   THE  MISSING  MAN. 


PETER  RUGG,   THE  MISSING  MAN. 


From  Jonathan  Dunk-ell  of  New  York,  to  Mk. 
Hekmax  Kkauff. 

SLR,  —  Agreeably  to  my  promise,  I  now  relate  to  you  all 
the  particulars  of  the  lost  man  and  child  which  I  have 
been  able  to  collect.  It  is  entirely  owing  to  the  humane 
interest  you  seemed  to  take  in  the  report,  that  I  have  pur- 
sued the  inquiry  to  the  following  result. 

You  may  remember  that  business  called  me  to  Boston 
in  the  summer  of  1820.  I  sailed  in  the  packet  to  Provi- 
dence, and  when  I  arrived  there  I  learned  that  every  seat 
in  the  stage  was  engaged.  I  was  thus  obliged  either  to 
wait  a  few  hours  or  accept  a  seat  with  the  driver,  who 
civilly  offered  me  that  accommodation.  Accordingly,  I 
took  my  seat  by  his  side,  and  soon  found  him  intelligent 
and  communicative.  When  we  had  travelled  about  ten 
miles,  the  horses  suddenly  threw  their  ears  on  their  necks, 
as  flat  as  a  hare's.  Said  the  driver,  "  Have  you  a  surtout 
with  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  why  do  you  ask  ? " 

"  You  will  want  one  soon,"  said  he.  "  Do  you  observe 
the  ears  of  all  the  horses  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  and  was  just  about  to  ask  the  reason." 

"  They  see  the  storm-breeder,  and  we  shall  see  him 
soon." 


j  PETER  RUGG, 

At  this  moment  there  was  not  a  cloud  visible  in  the  firma- 
ment.    Soon  after,  a  small  speck  appeared  in  the  road. 

"  There,"  said  my  companion,  "  comes  the  storm-breeder, 
lie  always  leaves  a  Scotch  mist  behind  him.  By  many  a 
wet  jacket  do  I  remember  him.  I  suppose  the  poor  fellow 
suffers  much  himself,  —  much  more  than  is  known  to  the 
world." 

Presently  a  man  with  a  child  beside  him,  with  a  large 
black  horse,  and  a  weather-beaten  chair,  once  built  for  a 
chaise-body,  passed  in  great  haste,  apparently  at  the  rate 
of  twelve  miles  an  hour.  He  seemed  to  grasp  the  reins  of 
his  horse  with  firmness,  and  appeared  to  anticipate  bis 
speed.  He  seemed  dejected,  and  looked  anxiously  at  the 
passengers,  particularly  at  the  stage-driver  and  myself.  In 
a  moment  after  he  passed  us,  the  horses'  ears  were  up,  and 
bent  themselves  forward  so  that  they  nearly  met. 

"  Who  is  that  man  ? "  said  I ;  "he  seems  in  great 
trouble." 

"  Nobody  knows  who  he  is,  but  his  person  and  the  child 
are  familiar  to  me.  I  have  met  him  more  than  a  hundred 
times,  and  have  been  so  often  asked  the  way  to  Boston 
by  that  man,  even  when  he  was  travelling  directly  from 
that  town,  that  of  late  I  have  refused  any  communica- 
tion with  him ;  and  that  is  the  reason  he  gave  me  such  a 
fixed  look." 

"  But  does  he  never  stop  anywhere  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  known  him  to  stop  anywhere  longer 
than  to  inquire  the  way  to  Boston ;  and  let  him  be  where 
he  may,  he  will  tell  you  he  cannot  stay  a  moment,  for 
he  must  reach  Boston  that  night." 

We  were  now  ascending  a  high  hill  in  Walpole  ;  and  as 
we  had  a  fair  view  of  the  heavens,  I  was  rather  disposed 
to  jeer  the  driver  for  thinking  of  his  surtout,  as  not  a 
cloud  as  bier  as  a  marble  could  be  discerned. 


THE  MISSING   MAX  5 

"  Do  you  look,"  said  he,  "  in  the  direction  whence  the 
man  came ;  that  is  the  place  to  look.  The  storm  never 
meets  him  :  it  follows  him." 

We  presently  approached  another  hill ;  and  when  at  the 
height,  the  driver  pointed  out  in  an  eastern  direction  a 
little  black  speck  about  as  big  as  a  hat.  "  There,"  said  he, 
"  is  the  seed-storm.  We  may  possibly  reach  Polley's  be- 
fore it  reaches  us,  but  the  wanderer  and  his  child  will  go 
to  Providence  through  rain,  thunder,  and  lightning." 

And  now  the  horses,  as  though  taught  by  instinct,  has- 
tened with  increased  speed.  The  little  black  cloud  came 
ou  rolling  over  the  turnpike,  and  doubled  and  trebled  itself 
in  all  directions.  The  appearance  of  this  cloud  attracted 
the  notice  of  all  the  passengers,  for  after  it  had  spread 
itself  to  a  great  bulk  it  suddenly  became  more  limited  in 
circumference,  grew  more  compact,  dark,  and  consolidated. 
And  now  the  successive  flashes  of  chain  lightning  caused 
the  whole  cloud  to  appear  like  a  sort  of  irregular  net-work, 
and  displayed  a  thousand  fantastic  images.  The  driver 
bespoke  my  attention  to  a  remarkable  configuration  in  the 
cloud.  He  said  every  flash  of  lightning  near  its  centre 
discovered  to  him,  distinctly,  the  form  of  a  man  sitting  in 
an  open  carriage  drawn  by  a  black  horse.  But  in  truth  I 
saw  no  such  thing ;  the  man's  fancy  was  doubtless  at 
fault.  It  is  a  very  common  thing  for  the  imagination  to 
paint  for  the  senses,  both  in  the  visible  and  invisible 
world. 

In  the  mean  time  the  distant  thunder  gave  notice  of  a 
shower  at  hand  ;  and  just  as  we  reached  Polley's  tavern 
the  rain  poured  down  in  torrents.  It  was  soon  over,  the 
cloud  passing  in  the  direction  of  the  turnpike  toward 
Providence.  In  a  few  moments  after,  a  respectable-look- 
ing man  in  a  chaise  stopped  at  the  door.  The  man  and 
child  in  the  chair  having  excited    some  little   sympathy 


6  PETER  RUGG, 

among  the  passengers,  the  gentleman  was  asked  if  he  had 
observed  them.  lie  said  be  had  met  them  ;  that  the  man 
seemed  bewildered,  and  inquired  the  way  to  Boston ;  that 
he  was  driving  at  great  speed,  as  though  he  expected  to 
outstrip  the  tempest ;  that  the  moment  he  had  passed  him, 
a  thunder-clap  broke  directly  over  the  man's  head,  and 
seemed  to  envelop  both  man  and  child,  horse  and  carriage. 
"  I  stopped,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  supposing  the  lightning 
had  struck  him,  but  the  horse  only  seemed  to  loom  up  and 
increase  his  speed  ;  and  as  well  as  I  could  judge,  he  trav- 
elled just  as  fast  as  the  thunder-cloud." 

While  this  man  was  speaking,  a  pedler  with  a  cart  of  tin 
merchandise  came  up,  all  dripping;  and  on  being  ques- 
tioned, he  said  he  had  met  that  man  and  carriage,  within  a 
fortnight,  in  four  different  States;  that  at  each  time  he 
had  inquired  the  way  to  Boston  ;  and  that  a  thunder-shower 
like  the  present  had  each  time  deluged  his  wagon  and  his 
wares,  setting  his  tin  pots,  etc.  afloat,  so  that  he  had  de- 
termined to  get  a  marine  insurance  for  the  future.  But 
that  which  excited  his  surprise  most  was  the  strange  con- 
duct of  his  horse,  for  long  before  he  could  distinguish  the 
man  in  the  chair,  his  own  horse  stood  still  in  the  road, 
and  flung  back  his  ears.  "  In  short,"  said  the  pedler,  "  I 
wish  never  to  see  that  man  and  horse  again ;  they  do  not 
look  to  me  as  though  they  belonged  to  this  world." 

This  was  all  I  could  learn  at  that  time ;  and  the  occur- 
rence soon  after  would  have  become  with  me,  "like  one  of 
those  things  which  had  never  happened,"  had  I  not,  as  I 
stood  recently  on  the  door-step  of  Bennett's  hotel  in  Hart- 
ford, heard  a  man  say,  "  There  goes  Peter  Rugg  and  his 
child !  he  looks  wet  and  weary,  and  farther  from  Boston 
than  ever."  I  was  satisfied  it  was  the  same  man  I  had  seen 
more  than  three  years  before  ;  for  whoever  has  once  seen 
Peter  Rugg  can  never  after  be  deceived  as  to  his  identity. 


THE  MISSING   MAN.  7 

"  Peter  Rugg  !  "  said  I;  "  and  who  is  Peter  Rugg?" 

"  That,"  said  the  stranger,  "  is  more  than  any  one  can 
tell  exactly.  He  is  a  famous  traveller,  held  in  light  esteem 
by  all  innholders,  for  he  never  stops  to  eat,  drink,  or  sleep. 
I  wonder  why  the  government  does  not  employ  him  to 
carry  the  mail." 

"  Ay,"  said  a  by-stander,  "  that  is  a  thought  bright  only 
on  one  side ;  how  long  would  it  take  in  that  case  to  send 
a  letter  to  Boston,  for  Peter  has  already,  to  my  knowledge, 
been  more  than  twenty  years  travelling  to  that  place." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  does  the  man  never  stop  anywhere  ; 
does  he  never  converse  with  any  one  ?  I  saw  the  same 
man  more  than  three  years  since,  near  Providence,  and  I 
heard  a  strange  story  about  him.  Pray,  sir,  give  me  some 
account  of  this  man." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "  those  who  know  the  most  re- 
specting that  man,  say  the  least.  I  have  heard  it  asserted 
that  Heaven  sometimes  sets  a  mark  on  a  man,  either  for 
judgment  or  a  trial.  Under  which  Peter  Rugg  now  labors, 
I  cannot  say  ;  therefore  I  am  rather  inclined  to  pity  than 
to  judge." 

"  You  speak  like  a  humane  man,"  said  I ;  "  and  if  you 
have  known  him  so  long,  I  pray  you  will  give  me  some 
account  of  him.  Has  his  appearance  much  altered  in 
that  time  ? " 

"  Why,  yes.  He  looks  as  though  he  never  ate,  drank,  or 
slept ;  and  his  child  looks  older  than  himself,  and  he  looks 
like  time  broken  off  from  eternity,  and  anxious  to  gain  a 
resting-place." 

"  And  how  does  his  horse  look  ?  "  said  I. 

"  As  for  his  horse,  he  looks  fatter  and  gayer,  and  shows 
more  animation  and  courage  than  he  did  twenty  years  ago. 
The  last  time  Rugg  spoke  to  me  he  inquired  how  far  it  was 
to  Boston.     I  told  him  just  one  hundred  miles." 


8  PETER   RUGG, 

" '  Why,'  said  he,  '  how  can  you  deceive  mo  so  ?  It 
is  cruel  to  mislead  a  traveller.  I  have  lost  my  way ; 
pray  direct  me  the  nearest  way  to  Boston.' 

"  I  repeated,  it  was  one  hundred  miles. 

"  '  How  can  you  say  so  ? '  said  he  ;  'I  was  told  last  even- 
ing it  was  but  fifty,  and  I  have  travelled  all  night.' 

"'But,'  said  I,  'you  arc  now  travelling  from  Boston. 
You  must  turn  back.' 

" '  Alas,'  said  he,  '  it  is  all  turn  back !  Boston  shifts 
with  the  wind,  and  plays  all  around  the  compass.  One 
man  tells  me  it  is  to  the  east,  another  to  the  west ;  and  the 
guide-posts  too,  they  all  point  the  wrong  way.' 

"  '  But  will  you  not  stop  and  rest  ? '  said  I ;  '  you  seem 
wet  and  weary.' 

" '  Yes,'  said  he,  '  it  has  been  foul  weather  since  I  left 
home.' 

" '  Stop,  then,  and  refresh  yourself.' 

" '  I  must  not  stop ;  I  must  reach  home  to-night,  if  pos- 
sible :  though  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken  in  the  distance 
to  Boston.' 

"  He  then  gave  the  reins  to  his  horse,  which  he  restrained 
with  difficulty,  and  disappeared  in  a  moment.  A  few  days 
afterward  I  met  the  man  a  little  this  side  of  Claremont,1 
winding  around  the  hills  in  Unity,  at  the  rate,  I  believe,  of 
twelve  miles  an  hour." 

"Is  Peter  Rugg  his  real  name,  or  has  he  accidentally 
gained  that  name  ? " 

"  I  know  not,  but  presume  he  will  not  deny  his  name ; 
you  can  ask  him,  —  for  see,  he  has  turned  his  horse,  and 
is  passing  this  way." 

In  a  moment  a  dark-colored  high-spirited  horse  ap- 
proached, and  would  have  passed  without  stopping,  but  I 
had  resolved  to  speak  to  Peter  Rugg,  or  whoever  the  man 
1  In  New  Hampshire. 


THE  MISSING   MAX.  9 

might  be.  Accordingly  I  stepped  into  the  street ;  and  as 
the  horse  approached,  I  made  a  feint  of  stopping  him. 
The  man  immediately  reined  in  his  horse.  "Sir,"  said  I, 
'•  may  I  be  so  bold  as  to  inquire  if  you  are  not  Mr.  Rugg  ? 
for  I  think  I  have  seen  you  before." 

"  My  name  is  Peter  Rugg,"  said  he.  "  I  have  unfortu- 
nately lost  my  way  ;  I  am  wet  and  weary,  and  will  take 
it  kindly  of  you  to  direct  me  to  Boston." 

"  You  live  in  Boston,  do  you  ;  and  in  what  street  ? " 

"  In  Middle  Street." 

"  When  did  you  leave  Boston  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  precisely  ;  it  seems  a  considerable  time." 

"  But  how  did  you  and  your  child  become  so  wet  ?  It 
has  not  rained  here  to-day. " 

"  It  has  just  rained  a  heavy  shower  up  the  river.  But 
I  shall  not  reach  Boston  to-night  if  I  tarry.  Would  you 
advise  me  to  take  the  old  road  or  the  turnpike  ? " 

"  Why,  the  old  road  is  one  hundred  and  seventeen  miles, 
and  the  turnpike  is  ninety-seven." 

"  How  can  you  say  so  ?  You  impose  on  me  ;  it  is  wrong 
to  trifle  with  a  traveller ;  you  know  it  is  but  forty  miles 
from  Newburyport  to  Boston." 

"  But  this  is  not  Newburyport ;  this  is  Hartford." 

"  Bo  not  deceive  me,  sir.  Is  not  this  town  Newburyport, 
and  the  river  that  I  have  been  following  the  Merrimack  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  this  is  Hartford,  and  the  river  the  Connecticut." 

He  wrung  his  hands  and  looked  incredulous.  "  Have 
the  rivers,  too,  changed  their  courses,  as  the  cities  have 
changed  places  ?  But  see !  the  clouds  are  gathering  in 
the  south,  and  we  shall  have  a  rainy  night.  Ah,  that 
fatal  oath  ! " 

He  would  tarry  no  longer;  his  impatient  horse  leaped 
off,  his  hind  flanks  rising  like  wings ;  he  seemed  to  devour 
all  before  him,  and  to  scorn  all  behind. 


10  PETER  RUGG, 

I  had  now,  as  I  thought,  discovered  a  clew  to  the  history  of 
Peter  Rugg ;  and  I  determined,  the  next  time  my  business 
called  me  to  Boston,  to  make  a  further  inquiry.  Soon  after, 
I  was  enabled  to  collect  the  following  particulars  from  Mrs. 
Croft,  an  aged  lady  in  Middle  Street,  who  has  resided  in  Bos- 
ton during  the  last  twenty  years.     Her  narration  is  this: 

Just  at  twilight  last  summer  a  person  stopped  at  the 
door  of  the  late  Mrs.  Rugg.  Mrs.  Croft  on  coming  to 
the  door  perceived  a  stranger  with  a  child  by  his  side,  in 
an  old  weather-beaten  carriage,  with  a  black  horse.  The 
stranger  asked  for  Mrs.  Rugg,  and  was  informed  that  Mrs. 
Rugg  had  died  at  a  good  old  age,  more  than  twenty  years 
before  that  time. 

The  stranger  replied,  "  How  can  you  deceive  me  so  ? 
Do  ask  Mrs.  Rugg  to  step  to  the  door." 

"  Sir,  I  assure  you  Mrs.  Rugg  has  not  lived  here  these 
twenty  years ;  no  one  lives  here  but  myself,  and  my 
name  is  Betsey  Croft." 

The  stranger  paused,  looked  up  and  down  the  street,  and 
said,  "  Though  the  paint  is  rather  faded,  this  looks  like 
my  house." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child,  "  that  is  the  stone  before  the  door 
that  I  used  to  sit  on  to  eat  my  bread  and  milk." 

"  But,"  said  the  stranger,  "  it  seems  to  be  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  street.  Indeed,  everything  here  seems  to  be 
misplaced.  The  streets  are  all  changed,  the  people  are 
all  changed,  the  town  seems  changed,  and  what  is  stran- 
gest of  all,  Catherine  Rugg  has  deserted  her  husband  and 
child.  Pray,"  continued  the  stranger,  "  has  John  Foy 
come  home  from  sea  ?  He  went  a  long  voyage ;  he  is 
my  kinsman.  If  I  could  see  him,  he  could  give  me  some 
account  of  Mrs.  Rugg." 

"Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Croft,  "I  never  heard  of  John  Foy. 
Where  did  he  live?" 


THE   MISSING   MAN.  11 

"  Just  above  here,  in  Orange-tree  Lane." 

"There  is  no  such  place  in  this  neighborhood." 

"  What  do  you  tell  me !  Are  the  streets  gone  ?  Orange- 
tree  Lane  is  at  the  head  of  Hanover  Street,  near  Pem- 
berton's  Hill." 

"There  is  no  such  lane  now." 

'•Madam,  you  cannot  be  serious!  But  you  doubtless 
know  my  brother,  William  Kugg.  He  lives  in  Royal 
Exchange  Lane,  near  King  Street." 

"  I  know  of  no  such  lane ;  and  I  am  sure  there  is  no 
such  street  as  King  Street  in  this  town." 

"  Xo  such  street  as  King  Street !  Why,  woman,  you 
mock  me !  You  may  as  well  tell  me  there  is  no  King 
George.  However,  madam,  you  see  I  am  wet  and  weary, 
I  must  find  a  resting-place.  I  will  go  to  Hart's  tavern, 
near  the  market." 

"  Which  market,  sir  ?  for  you  seem  perplexed ;  we  have 
several  markets." 

"You  know  there  is  but  one  market  near  the  town 
dock." 

"  Oh,  the  old  market ;  but  no  such  person  has  kept  there 
these  twenty  years." 

Here  the  stranger  seemed  disconcerted,  and  uttered  to 
himself  quite  audibly  :  "  Strange  mistake  ;  how  much  this 
looks  like  the  town  of  Boston !  It  certainly  has  a  great 
resemblance  to  it ;  but  I  perceive  my  mistake  now.  Some 
other  Mrs.  Rugg,  some  other  Middle  Street.  —  Then," 
said  he,  "madam,  can  you  direct  me  to  Boston?" 

"  Why,  this  is  Boston,  the  city  of  Boston ;  I  know  of 
no  other  Boston." 

"  City  of  Boston  it  may  be ;  but  it  is  not  the  Boston 
where  I  live.  I  recollect  now,  I  came  over  a  bridge  in- 
stead of  a  ferry.  Pray,  what  bridge  is  that  I  just  came 
over?" 


12  PETEE  KUGG, 

"It  is  Charles  River  bridge." 

"  I  perceive  my  mistake :  there  is  a  ferry  between  Bos- 
ton and  Charlestown ;  there  is  no  bridge.  Ah,  I  perceive 
my  mistake.  If  I  were  in  Boston  my  horse  would  carry 
me  directly  to  my  own  door.  But  my  horse  shows  by  his 
impatience  that  he  is  in  a  strange  place.  Absurd,  that  I 
should  have  mistaken  this  place  for  the  old  town  of  Bos- 
ton !  It  is  a  much  finer  city  than  the  town  of  Boston.  It 
has  been  built  long  since  Boston.  I  fancy  Boston  must 
lie  at  a  distance  from  this  city,  as  the  good  woman  seems 
ignorant  of  it." 

At  these  words  his  horse  began  to  chafe,  and  strike  the 
pavement  with  his  forefeet.  The  stranger  seemed  a  little 
bewildered,  and  said,  "No  home  to-night;"  and  giving  the 
reins  to  his  horse,  passed  up  the  street,  and  I  saw  no  more 
of  him. 

It  was  evident  that  the  generation  to  which  Peter  Rugg 
belonged,  had  passed  away. 

This  was  all  the  account  of  Peter  Rugg  I  could  obtain 
from  Mrs.  Croft ;  but  she  directed  me  to  an  elderly  man, 
Mr.  James  Felt,  who  lived  near  her,  and  who  had  kept  a 
record  of  the  principal  occurrences  for  the  last  fifty  years. 
At  my  request  she  sent  for  him ;  and  after  I  had  related 
to  him  the  object  of  my  inquiry,  Mr.  Felt  told  me  he  had 
known  Rugg  in  his  youth,  and  that  his  disappearance  had 
caused  some  surprise ;  but  as  it  sometimes  happens  that 
men  run  away,  —  sometimes  to  be  rid  of  others,  and  some- 
times to  be  rid  of  themselves,  —  and  Rugg  took  his  child 
with  him.  and  his  own  horse  and  chair,  and  as  it  did  not 
appear  that  any  creditors  made  a  stir,  the  occurrence  soon 
mingled  itself  in  the  stream  of  oblivion ;  and  Rugg  and 
his  child,  horse,  and  chair  were  soon  forgotten. 

"It  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Felt,  "sundry  stories  grew  out  of 
Rugg's  affair,  whether  true   or  false  I  cannot  tell ;  but 


THE  MISSING  MAN.  13 

stranger  things  have  happened  in  my  day,  without  even  a 
newspaper  notice." 

"  Sir,"  said  1,  "  Peter  Rugg  is  now  living.  I  have  lately 
seen  Peter  Rugg  and  his  child,  horse,  and  chair;  there- 
fore I  pray  you  to  relate  to  me  all  you  know  or  ever  heard 
of  him." 

'■  Why,  my  friend,"  said  James  Felt,  "  that  Peter  Rugg 
is  now  a  living  man,  I  will  not  deny ;  but  that  you  have 
seen  Peter  Rugg  and  his  child,  is  impossible,  if  you  mean 
a  small  child ;  for  Jenny  Rugg,  if  living,  must  be  at  least 
—  let  me  see  —  Boston  massacre,  1770  —  Jenny  Rugg  was 
about  ten  years  old.  Why,  sir,  Jenny  Rugg,  if  living, 
must  be  more  than  sixty  years  of  age.  That  Peter  Rugg 
is  living,  is  highly  probable,  as  he  was  only  ten  years  older 
than  myself,  and  I  was  only  eighty  last  March  ;  and  I  am 
as  likely  to  live  twenty  years  longer  as  any  man." 

Here  I  perceived  that  Mr.  Felt  was  in  his  dotage,  and  I 
despaired  of  gaining  any  intelligence  from  him  on  which 
I  could  depend. 

I  took  my  leave  of  Mrs.  Croft,  and  proceeded  to  my 
lodgings  at  the  Marlborough  Hotel. 

"  If  Peter  Rugg,"  thought  I,  "  has  been  travelling  since 
the  Boston  massacre,  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
travel  to  the  end  of  time.  If  the  present  generation  know 
little  of  him,  the  next  will  know  less,  and  Peter  and  his 
child  will  have  no  hold  on  this  world." 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  I  related  my  adventure  in 
Middle  Street. 

"  Ha ! "  said  one  of  the  company,  smiling,  "  do  you 
really  think  you  have  seen  Peter  Rugg  ?  I  have  heard  my 
grandfather  speak  of  him,  as  though  he  seriously  believed 
his  own  story." 

••  Sir."  said  I,  "pray  let  us  compare  your  grandfather's 
story  of  Mr.  Rugg  with  my  own." 


14  PETEK  liUGG, 

"  Peter  Rugg,  sir,  —  if  my  grandfather  was  worthy  of 
credit,  —  once  lived  in  Middle  Street,  in  this  city.  He  was 
a  man  in  comfortable  circumstances,  had  a  wife  and  one 
daughter,  and  was  generally  esteemed  for  his  sober  life 
and  manners.  But  unhappily,  his  temper,  at  times,  was 
altogether  ungovernable,  and  then  his  language  was  terri- 
ble. In  these  fits  of  passion,  if  a  door  stood  in  his  way,  he 
would  never  do  less  than  kick  a  panel  through.  He 
would  sometimes  throw  his  heels  over  his  head,  and  come 
down  on  his  feet,  uttering  oaths  in  a  circle  ;  and  thus  in 
a  rage,  he  was  the  first  who  performed  a  somerset,  and 
did  what  others  have  since  learned  to  do  for  merriment 
and  money.  Once  Rugg  was  seen  to  bite  a  tenpenny  nail 
in  halves.  In  those  days  everybody,  both  men  and  boys, 
wore  wigs ;  and  Peter,  at  these  moments  of  violent  pas- 
sion, would  become  so  profane  that  his  wig  would  rise  up 
from  his  head.  Some  said  it  was  on  account  of  his  terri- 
ble language ;  others  accounted  for  it  in  a  more  philo- 
sophical way,  and  said  it  was  caused  by  the  expansion  of 
his  scalp,  as  violent  passion,  we  know,  will  swell  the  veins 
and  expand  the  head.  While  these  fits  were  on  him,  Rugg 
had  no  respect  for  heaven  or  earth.  Except  this  infirmity, 
all  agreed  that  Rugg  was  a  good  sort  of  a  man ;  for  when 
his  fits  were  over,  nobody  was  so  ready  to  commend  a 
placid  temper  as  Peter. 

"  One  morning,  late  in  autumn,  Rugg,  in  his  own  chair, 
with  a  fine  large  bay  horse,  took  his  daughter  and  pro- 
ceeded to  Concord.  On  his  return  a  violent  storm  over- 
took him.  At  dark  he  stopped  in  Menotomy,  now  West 
Cambridge,  at  the  door  of  a  Mr.  Cutter,  a  friend  of  his, 
who  urged  him  to  tarry  the  night.  On  Rugg's  declin- 
ing to  stop,  Mr.  Cutter  urged  him  vehemently.  '  Why, 
Mr.  Rugg,'  said  Cutter,  'the  storm  is  overwhelming  you. 
The  night  is  exceedingly  dark.     Your  little  daughter  will 


THE  MISSING  MAN.  15 

perish.  You  are  in  an  open  chair,  and  the  tempest  is  in- 
creasing.' '  Let  the  storm  increase]  said  Rugg,  with  a  fear- 
ful oath,  '  /  tot72  see  home  to-night,  in  spite  of  the  last 
tempest,  or  may  J  never  see  home ! '  At  these  words  he 
gave  his  whip  to  his  high-spirited  horse  and  disappeared 
in  a  moment.  But  Peter  Rugg  did  not  reach  home  that 
night,  nor  the  next ;  nor,  when  he  became  a  missing 
man,  could  he  ever  be  traced  beyond  Mr.  Cutter's,  in 
Menotomy. 

"  For  a  long  time  after,  on  every  dark  and  stormy  night 
the  wife  of  Peter  Rugg  would  fancy  she  heard  the  crack 
of  a  whip,  and  the  fleet  tread  of  a  horse,  and  the  rattling 
of  a  carriage  passing  her  door.  The  neighbors,  too,  heard 
the  same  noises,  and  some  said  they  knew  it  was  Rugg's 
horse ;  the  tread  on  the  pavement  was  perfectly  familiar 
to  them.  This  occurred  so  repeatedly  that  at  length  the 
neighbors  watched  with  lanterns,  and  saw  the  real  Peter 
Rugg,  with  his  own  horse  and  chair  and  the  child  sitting 
beside  him,  pass  directly  before  his  own  door,  his  head 
turned  toward  his  house,  and  himself  making  every  effort 
to  stop  his  horse,  but  in  vain. 

"  The  next  day  the  friends  of  Mrs.  Rugg  exerted  them- 
selves to  find  her  husband  and  child.  They  inquired  at 
every  public  house  and  stable  in  town ;  but  it  did  not  ap- 
pear that  Rugg  made  any  stay  in  Boston.  No  one,  after 
Rugg  had  passed  his  own  door,  could  give  any  account  of 
him,  though  it  was  asserted  by  some  that  the  clatter  of 
Rugg's  horse  and  carriage  over  the  pavements  shook  the 
houses  on  both  sides  of  the  streets.  And  this  is  credible,  if 
indeed  Rugg's  horse  and  carriage  did  pass  on  that  night ; 
for  at  this  day,  in  many  of  the  streets,  a  loaded  truck  or 
team  in  passing  will  shake  the  houses  like  an  earthquake. 
However,  Rugg's  neighbors  never  afterward  watched. 
Some  of  them  treated  it  all  as  a  delusion,  and  thought  no 


1G  PETER  RUGG, 

more  of  it.  Others  of  a  different  opinion  shook  their  heads 
and  said  nothing. 

"Thus  Etugg  and  his  child,  horse,  and  chair  were  soon 
forgotten;  and  probably  many  in  the  neighborhood  never 
heard  a  word  on  the  subject. 

"  There  was  indeed  a  rumor  that  Rugg  was  seen  after- 
ward in  Connecticut,  between  Suflield  and  Hartford,  pass- 
ing through  the  country  at  headlong  speed.  This  gave 
occasion  to  Rugg's  friends  to  make  further  inquiry ;  but 
the  more  they  inquired,  the  more  they  were  baffled.  If 
they  heard  of  Rugg  one  day  in  Connecticut,  the  next  they 
heard  of  him  winding  round  the  hills  in  New  Hampshire  ; 
and  soon  after  a  man  in  a  chair,  with  a  small  child,  exactly 
answering  the  description  of  Peter  Rugg,  would  be  seen  in 
Rhode  Island  inquiring  the  way  to  Boston. 

"  But  that  which  chiefly  gave  a  color  of  mystery  to  the 
story  of  Peter  Rugg  was  the  affair  at  Charlestown  bridge. 
The  toll-gatherer  asserted  that  sometimes,  on  the  darkest 
and  most  stormy  nights,  when  no  object  could  be  dis- 
cerned, about  the  time  Rugg  was  missing,  a  horse  and 
wheel-carriage,  with  a  noise  equal  to  a  troop,  would  at 
midnight,  in  utter  contempt  of  the  rates  of  toll,  pass  over 
the  bridge.  This  occurred  so  frequently  that  the  toll- 
gatherer  resolved  to  attempt  a  discovery.  Soon  after,  at 
the  usual  time,  apparently  the  same  horse  and  carriage 
approached  the  bridge  from  Charlestown  square.  The  toll- 
gatherer,  prepared,  took  his  stand  as  near  the  middle  of 
the  bridge  as  he  dared,  with  a  large  three-legged  stool  in 
his  hand ;  as  the  appearance  passed,  he  threw  the  stool 
at  the  horse,  but  heard  nothing  except  the  noise  of  the 
stool  skipping  across  the  bridge.  The  toll-gatherer  on 
the  next  day  asserted  that  the  stool  went  directly  through 
the  body  of  the  horse,  and  he  persisted  in  that  belief  ever 
after.     "Whether  Rugg,   or  whoever  the  person  was,  ever 


THE  MISSING   MAX.  17 

passed  the  bridge  again,  the  toll-gatherer  would  never  tell; 
and  when  questioned,  seemed  anxious  to  waive  the  subject. 
And  thus  Peter  Rugg  and  his  child,  horse,  and  carriage, 
remain  a  mystery  to  this  day." 

This,  sir,  is  all  that  I  could  learn  of  Peter  Rugg  in 
Boston. 


FURTHER  ACCOUNT   OF  PETER  RUGG. 
By  Jonathan  Duxwell. 

In  the  autumn  of  1825  I  attended  the  races  at  Richmond 
in  Virginia.  As  two  new  horses  of  great  promise  were 
run,  the  race-ground  was  never  better  attended,  nor  was 
expectation  ever  more  deeply  excited.  The  partisans  of 
Dart  and  Lightning,  the  two  race-horses,  were  equally 
anxious  and  equally  dubious  of  the  result.  To  an  indiffer- 
ent spectator,  it  was  impossible  to  perceive  any  difference. 
They  were  equally  beautiful  to  behold,  alike  in  color  and 
height,  and  as  they  stood  side  by  side  they  measured  from 
heel  to  forefeet  within  half  an  inch  of  each  other.  The 
eyes  of  eacli  were  full,  prominent,  and  resolute ;  and 
when  at  times  they  regarded  each  other,  they  assumed  a 
lofty  ilemcanor,  seemed  to  shorten  their  necks,  project 
their  eyes,  and  rest  their  bodies  equally  on  their  four 
hoofs.  They  certainly  showed  signs  of  intelligence,  and 
displayed  a  courtesy  to  each  other  unusual  even  with 
statesmen. 

It  was  now  nearly  twelve  o'clock,  the  hour  of  expecta- 
tion, doubt,  and  anxiety.  The  riders  mounted  their  horses ; 
and  so  trim,  light,  and  airy  they  sat  on  the  animals  as 
to  seem  a  part  of  them.  The  spectators,  many  deep  in  a 
solid  column,  had  taken  their  places,  and  as  many  thou- 


18  PETER  RUGG, 

sand  breathing  statues  were  there  as  spectators.  All  eyes 
were  turned  to  Dart  and  Lightning  and  their  two  fairy 
riders.  There  was  nothing  to  disturb  this  calm  except 
a  busy  woodpecker  on  a  neighboring  tree.  The  signal 
was  given,  and  Dart  and  Lightning  answered  it  with 
ready  intelligence.  At  first  they  proceed  at  a  slow  trot, 
then  they  quicken  to  a  canter,  and  then  a  gallop;  pres- 
ently they  sweep  the  plain.  Both  horses  lay  themselves 
flat  on  the  ground,  their  riders  bending  forward  and  rest- 
ing their  chins  between  their  horses'  ears.  Had  not  the 
ground  been  perfectly  level,  had  there  been  any  undula- 
tion, the  least  rise  and  fall,  the  spectator  would  now  and 
then  have  lost  sight  of  both  horses  and  riders. 

While  these  horses,  side  by  side,  thus  appeared,  flying 
without  wings,  flat  as  a  hare,  and  neither  gaining  on  the 
other,  all  eyes  were  diverted  to  a  new  spectacle.  Directly 
in  the  rear  of  Dart  and  Lightning,  a  majestic  black  horse 
of  unusual  size,  drawing  an  old  weather-beaten  chair, 
strode  over  the  plain ;  and  although  he  appeared  to  make 
no  effort,  for  he  maintained  a  steady  trot,  before  Dart  and 
Lightning  approached  the  goal  the  black  horse  and  chair 
had  overtaken  the  racers,  who,  on  perceiving  this  new 
competitor  pass  them,  threw  back  their  ears,  and  suddenly 
stopped  in  their  course.  Thus  neither  Dart  nor  Lightning 
carried  away  the  purse. 

The  spectators  now  were  exceedingly  curious  to  learn 
whence  came  the  black  horse  and  chair.  With  many  it 
was  the  opinion  that  nobody  was  in  the  vehicle.  Indeed, 
this  began  to  be  the  prevalent  opinion  ;  for  those  at  a  short 
distance,  so  fleet  was  the  black  horse,  could  not  easily 
discern  who,  if  anybody,  was  in  the  carriage.  But  both 
the  riders,  very  near  to  whom  the  black  horse  passed, 
agreed  in  this  particular,  —  that  a  sad-looking  man  and 
a  little  girl  were  in  the  chair.     When  they  stated  this  I 


THE   MISSING   MAX.  19 

was  satisfied  that  the  man  was  Peter  Rugg.  But  what 
caused  no  little  surprise,  John  Spring,  one  of  the  riders 
(he  who  rode  Lightning)  asserted  that  no  earthly  horse 
without  breaking  his  trot  could,  in  a  carriage,  outstrip 
his  race-horse  ;  and  he  persisted,  with  some  passion,  that 
it  was  not  a  horse,  —  or,  he  was  sure  it  was  not  a  horse, 
but  a  large  black  ox.  "  What  a  great  black  ox  can  do," 
said  John,  "  I  cannot  pretend  to  say ;  but  no  race-horse, 
not  even  flying  Childers,  could  out-trot  Lightning  in  a 
fair  race." 

This  opinion  of  John  Spring  excited  no  little  merriment, 
for  it  was  obvious  to  every  one  that  it  was  a  powerful 
black  horse  that  interrupted  the  race ;  but  John  Spring, 
jealous  of  Lightning's  reputation  as  a  horse,  would  rather 
have  it  thought  that  any  other  beast,  even  an  ox,  had  been 
the  victor.  However,  the  "  horse-laugh  "  at  John  Spring's 
expense  was  soon  suppressed  ;  for  as  soon  as  Dart  and 
Lightning  began  to  breathe  more  freely,  it  was  observed 
that  both  of  them  walked  deliberately  to  the  track  of  the 
race-ground,  and  putting  their  heads  to  the  earth,  sud- 
denly raised  them  again  and  began  to  snort.  They  re- 
peated this  till  John  Spring  said,  —  "  These  horses  have 
discovered  something  strange  ;  they  suspect  foul  play.  Let 
me  go  and  talk  with  Lightning." 

He  went  up  to  Lightning  and  took  hold  of  his  mane ; 
and  Lightning  put  his  nose  toward  the  ground  and  smelt 
of  the  earth  without  touching  it,  then  reared  his  head 
very  high,  and  snorted  so  loudly  that  the  sound  echoed 
from  the  next  hill.  Part  did  the  same.  John  Spring 
stooped  down  to  examine  the  spot  where  Lightning  had 
smelled.  In  a  moment  he  raised  himself  up,  and  the  coun- 
tenance of  the  man  was  changed.  His  strength  failed  him, 
and  he  sidled  against  Lightning. 

At  length  John  Spring  recovered  from  his  stupor  and 


•20  PETER  RUGG, 

exclaimed,  "  It  was  an  ox  !  I  told  you  it  was  an  ox.  No 
real  horse  ever  yet  beat  Lightning." 

Ami  now,  on  a  close  inspection  of  the  black  horse's 
tracks  in  t lie  path,  it  was  evident  to  every  one  that  the 
forefeet  of  the  black  horse  were  cloven.  Notwithstanding 
these  appearances,  to  me  it  was  evident  that  the  strange 
horse  was  in  reality  a  horse.  Yet  when  the  people  left  the 
race-ground,  I  presume  one  half  of  all  those  present  would 
have  testified  that  a  large  black  ox  had  distanced  two  of 
the  fleetest  coursers  that  ever  trod  the  Virginia  turf.  So 
uncertain  are  all  things  called  historical  facts. 

While  I  was  proceeding  to  my  lodgings,  pondering  on 
the  events  of  the  day,  a  stranger  rode  up  to  me,  and 
accosted  me  thus,  —  "  I  think  your  name  is  Dun  well,  sir." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"  Did  I  not  see  you  a  year  or  two  since  in  Boston,  at  the 
Marlborough  Hotel  ? " 

"  Very  likely,  sir,  for  I  was  there." 

"  And  you  heard  a  story  about  one  Peter  Rugg  ? " 

"  I  recollect  it  all,"  said  I. 

"  The  account  you  heard  in  Boston  must  be  true,  for  here 
he  was  to-day.  The  man  has  found  his  way  to  Virginia, 
and  for  anght  that  appears,  has  been  to  Cape  Horn.  1 
have  seen  him  before  to-day,  but  never  saw  him  travel  with 
such  fearful  velocity.  Pray,  sir,  where  does  Peter  Rugg 
spend  his  winters,  for  I  have  seen  him  only  in  summer, 
and  always  in  foul  weather,  except  this  time  ?" 

I  replied,  "  No  one  knows  where  Peter  Rugg  spends  his 
winters  ;  where  or  when  he  eats,  drinks,  sleeps,  or  lodges. 
He  seems  to  have  an  indistinct  idea  of  day  and  night,  time 
and  space,  storm  and  sunshine.  His  only  object  is  Boston. 
It  appears  to  me  that  Rugg's  horse  has  some  control  of 
the  chair ;  and  that  Rugg  himself  is,  in  some  sort,  under 
the  control  of  his  horse." 


THE  MISSING  MAX.  21 

I  then  inquired  of  the  stranger  where  he  first  saw  the 
man  and  horse. 

••  Why,  sir,"'  said  lie.  "  in  the  summer  of  1824, 1  travelled 
to  the  North  for  my  health  ;  and  soon  after  I  saw  you  at 
the  Marlborough.  Hotel  I  returned  homeward  to  Virginia, 
and,  if  my  memory  is  correct,  I  saw  this  man  and  horse  in 
every  State  between  here  and  Massachusetts.  Sometimes 
he  would  meet  me,  but  oftener  overtake  me.  He  never 
spoke  but  once,  and  that  once  was  in  Delaware.  On  his 
approach  he  checked  his  horse  with  some  difficulty.  A 
more  beautiful  horse  I  never  saw ;  his  hide  was  as  fair  and 
rotund  and  glossy  as  the  skin  of  a  Congo  beauty.  When 
Rugg's  horse  approached  mine  he  reined  in  his  neck,  bent 
his  ears  forward  until  they  met,  and  looked  my  horse  full 
in  the  face.  My  horse  immediately  withered  into  half  a 
horse,  his  hide  curling  up  like  a  piece  of  burnt  leather : 
spell-bound,  he  was  fixed  to  the  earth  as  though  a  nail 
had  been  driven  through  each  hoof. 

'•  •  Sir,'  said  Kugg, '  perhaps  you  are  travelling  to  Boston  ; 
and  if  so,  I  should  be  happy  to  accompany  you,  for  I  have  lost 
my  way,  and  I  must  reach  home  to-night.  See  how  sleepy 
this  little  girl  looks  ;  poor  thing,  she  is  a  picture  of  patience.' 

"'Sir,'  said  I,  'it  is  impossible  for  you  to  reach  home 
to-night,  for  you  are  in  Concord,  in  the  county  of  Sussex. 
in  the  State  of  Delaware.' 

'• '  What  do  you  mean,'  said  he, '  by  State  of  Delaware  ? 
If  I  were  in  Concord,  that  is  only  twenty  miles  from  Bos- 
ton, and  my  horse  Lightfoot  could  carry  me  to  Charles- 
town  ferry  in  less  than  two  hours.  You  mistake,  sir  ;  you 
are  a  stranger  here  ;  this  town  is  nothing  like  Concord. 
I  am  well  acquainted  with  Concord.  I  went  to  Concord 
when  I  left  Boston.' 

" '  But,'  said  I,  '  you  are  in  Concord,  in  the  State  of 
Delaware.' 


22  PETER  RUGG, 

" '  What  do  you  mean  by  State  ? '  said  Rugg. 

" '  Why,  one  of  the  United  States.' 

" '  States ! '  said  he,  in  a  low  voice  ;  '  the  man  is  a  wag, 
and  would  persuade  me  I  am  in  Holland.'  Then,  raising 
his  voice,  he  said,  '  You  seem,  sir,  to  be  a  gentleman, 
and  I  entreat  you  to  mislead  me  not :  tell  me,  quickly,  for 
pity's  sake,  the  right  road  to  Boston,  for  you  see  my  horse 
will  swallow  his  bits ;  he  has  eaten  nothing  since  I  left 
Concord.' 

"'Sir,'  said  I,  'this  town  is  Concord,  —  Concord  in  Dela- 
ware, not  Concord  in  Massachusetts  ;  and  you  are  now  five 
hundred  miles  from  Boston.' 

"  Rugg  looked  at  me  for  a  moment,  more  in  sorrow  than 
resentment,  and  then  repeated, '  Five  hundred  miles  !  Un- 
happy man,  who  would  have  thought  him  deranged ;  but 
nothing  in  this  world  is  so  deceitful  as  appearances.  Five 
hundred  miles  !     This  beats  Connecticut  River.' 

"  What  he  meant  by  Connecticut  River,  I  know  not ;  his 
horse  broke  away,  and  Rugg  disappeared  in  a  moment." 

I  explained  to  the  stranger  the  meaning  of  Rugg's  ex- 
pression, "  Connecticut  River,"  and  the  incident  respecting 
him  that  occurred  at  Hartford,  as  I  stood  on  the  door- 
stone  of  Mr.  Bennett's  excellent  hotel.  We  both  agreed 
that  the  man  we  had  seen  that  day  was  the  true  Peter 
Rugg. 

Soon  after,  I  saw  Rugg  again,  at  the  toll-gate  on  the 
turnpike  between  Alexandria  and  Middleburgh.  While  I 
was  paying  the  toll,  I  observed  to  the  toll-gatherer,  that 
the  drought  was  more  severe  in  his  vicinity  than  farther 
south. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  the  drought  is  excessive  ;  but  if  I  had 
not  heard  yesterday,  by  a  traveller,  that  the  man  with  the 
black  horse  was  seen  in  Kentucky  a  day  or  two  since,  I 
should  be  sure  of  a  shower  in  a  few  minutes." 


THE  MISSING   MAX.  23 

I  looked  all  around  the  horizon,  and  could  not  discern 
a  cloud  that  could  hold  a  pint  of  water. 

"  Look,  sir,"  said  the  toll-gatherer,  "  you  perceive  to  the 
eastward,  just  above  that  hill,  a  small  black  cloud  not 
bigger  than  a  blackberry,  and  while  I  am  speaking  it  is 
doubling  and  trebling  itself,  and  rolling  up  the  turnpike 
steadily,  as  if  its  sole  design  was  to  deluge  some  object." 

"  True,"  said  I,  "  I  do  perceive  it ;  but  what  connection 
is  there  between  a  thunder-cloud  and  a  man  and  horse  ? " 

li  More  than  you  imagine,  or  I  can  tell  you;  but  stop  a 
moment,  sir,  I  may  need  your  assistance.  I  know  that 
cloud  ;  I  have  seen  it  several  times  before,  and  can  testify 
to  its  identity.  You  will  soon  see  a  man  and  black  horse 
under  it." 

While  he  was  speaking,  true  enough,  we  began  to  hear 
the  distant  thunder,  and  soon  the  chain-lightning  per- 
formed all  the  figures  of  a  country-dance.  About  a  mile 
distant  we  saw  the  man  and  black  horse  under  the  cloud ; 
but  before  he  arrived  at  the  toll-gate,  the  thunder-cloud 
had  spent  itself,  and  not  even  a  sprinkle  fell  near  us. 

As  the  man,  whom  I  instantly  knew  to  be  Rugg,  at- 
tempted to  pass,  the  toll-gatherer  swung  the  gate  across 
the  road,  seized  Rugg's  horse  by  the  reins,  and  demanded 
two  dollars. 

Feeling  some  little  regard  for  Rugg,  I  interfered,  and 
began  to  question  the  toll-gatherer,  and  requested  him  not 
to  be  wroth  with  the  man.  The  toll-gatherer  replied  that 
he  had  just  cause,  for  the  man  had  run  his  toll  ten  times, 
and  moreover  that  the  horse  had  discharged  a  cannon-ball 
at  him,  to  the  great  danger  of  his  life  ;  that  the  man 
had  always  before  approached  so  rapidly  that  he  was  too 
quick  for  the  rusty  hinges  of  the  toll-gate  ;  "  but  now  I 
will  have  full  satisfaction." 

Rugg  looked  wistfully  at  me,  and  said,  "  I  entreat  you, 


24  PETER  RUGG, 

sir,  to  delay  me  not ;  I  have  found  at  length  the  direct 
road  to  Boston,  and  shall  not  reach  home  before  night  if 
you  detain  me.  You  see  1  am  dripping  wet,  and  ought 
to  change  my  clothes." 

The  toll-gatherer  then  demanded  why  he  had  run  his 
toll  so  many  times. 

"  Toll !  Why,"  said  Rugg,  "  do  you  demand  toll  ?  There 
is  no  toll  to  pay  on  the  king's  highway." 

"  King's  highway  !  Do  you  not  perceive  this  is  a 
turnpike  ?" 

"  Turnpike  !  there  are  no  turnpikes  in  Massachusetts." 

"That  may  be,  but  we  have  several  in  Virginia." 

"  Virginia !     Do  you  pretend  I  am  in  Virginia  ?" 

Rugg  then,  appealing  to  me,  asked  how  far  it  was  to 
Boston. 

Said  I,  "  Mr.  Rugg,  I  perceive  you  are  bewildered,  and 
am  sorry  to  see  you  so  far  from  home ;  you  are,  indeed, 
in  Virginia." 

"  You  know  me,  then,  sir,  it  seems  ;  and  you  say  I  am 
in  Virginia.  Give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  sir,  you  are  the 
most  impudent  man  alive ;  for  I  was  never  forty  miles 
from  Boston,  and  I  never  saw  a  Virginian  in  my  life. 
This  beats  Delaware  !  " 

"  Your  toll,  sir,  your  toll !  " 

"  I  will  not  pay  you  a  penny,"  said  Rugg ;  "  you  are  both 
of  you  highway  robbers.  There  are  no  turnpikes  in  this 
country.  Take  toll  on  the  kings  highway  !  Robbers  take 
toll  on  the  king's  highway  ! "  Then  in  a.  low  tone,  he  said, 
"  Here  is  evidently  a  conspiracy  against  me ;  alas,  I  shall 
never  see  Boston  !  The  highways  refuse  me  a  passage,  the 
rivers  change  their  courses,  and  there  is  no  faith  in  the 
compass." 

But  Rugg's  horse  had  no  idea  of  stopping  more  than  one 
minute ;  for   in  the  midst  of   this  altercation,  the  horse, 


THE   MISSING   MAN.  25 

whose  nose  was  resting  on  the  upper  bar  of  the  turnpike- 
gate,  seized  it  between  his  teeth,  lifted  it  gently  off  its 
staples,  and  trotted  off  with  it.  The  toll-gatherer,  con- 
founded, strained  his  eyes  after  his  gate. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  I,  u  the  horse  will  soon  drop  your 
gate,  and  you  will  get  it  again." 

I  tbcii  questioned  the  toll-gatherer  respecting  his 
knowledge  of  this  man ;  and  he  related  the  following 
particulars :  — 

"  The  first  time,"  said  he,  "  that  man  ever  passed  this 
toll-gate  was  in  the  year  1S06,  at  the  moment  of  the  great 
eclipse.  I  thought  the  horse  was  frightened  at  the  sudden 
darkness,  and  concluded  he  had  run  away  with  the  man. 
But  within  a  few  days  after,  the  same  man  and  horse 
repassed  with  equal  speed,  without  the  least  respect  to  the 
toll-gate  or  to  me,  except  by  a  vacant  stare.  Some  few 
years  afterward,  during  the  late  war,  I  saw  the  same  man 
approaching  again,  and  I  resolved  to  check  his  career. 
Accordingly  I  stepped  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  and 
stretched  wide  both  my  arms,  and  cried,  '  Stop,  sir,  on  your 
peril!'  At  this  the  man  said,  'Now,  Lightfoot,  confound 
the  robber ! '  at  the  same  time  he  gave  the  whip  liberally 
to  the  flank  of  his  horse,  which  bounded  off  with  such  force 
that  it  appeared  to  me  two  such  horses,  give  them  a  place 
to  stand,  would  overcome  any  check  man  could  devise. 
An  ammunition  wagon  which  had  just  passed  on  to  Bal- 
timore had  dropped  an  eighteen  pounder  in  the  road ; 
this  unlucky  ball  lay  in  the  way  of  the  horse's  heels,  and 
the  beast,  witli  the  sagacity  of  a  demon,  clinched  it  witli 
one  of  his  heels  and  hurled  it  behind  him.  I  feel  dizzy 
in  relating  the  fact,  but  so  nearly  did  the  ball  pass  my 
head,  that  the  wind  thereof  blew  off  my  hat ;  and  the  ball 
embedded  itself  in  that  gate-post,  as  you  may  see  if  you  will 
cast  your  eye  on  the  post.    I  have  permitted  it  to  remain 


26  PETER  RUGG, 

there  in  memory  of  the  occurrence,  —  as  the  people  of  Bos- 
ton, I  am  told,  preserve  the  eighteen-pounder  which  is  now 
to  be  seen  half  embedded  in  Brattle  Street  church." 

I  then  took  leave  of  the  toll-gatherer,  and  promised  him 
if  I  saw  or  heard  of.his  gate  I  would  send  him  notice. 

A  strong  inclination  had  possessed  me  to  arrest  Rugg 
and  search  his  pockets,  thinking  great  discoveries  might 
be  made  in  the  examination ;  but  what  I  saw  and  heard 
that  day  convinced  me  that  no  human  force  could  detain 
Peter  Rugg  against  his  consent.  I  therefore  determined 
if  I  ever  saw  Rugg  again  to  treat  him  in  the  gentlest 
manner. 

In  pursuing  my  way  to  New  York,  I  entered  on  the 
turnpike  in  Trenton ;  and  when  I  arrived  at  New  Bruns- 
wick, I  perceived  the  road  was  newly  macadamized.  The 
small  stones  had  just  been  laid  thereon.  As  I  passed  this 
piece  of  road,  I  observed  that,  at  regular  distances  of  about 
eight  feet,  the  stones  were  entii-ely  displaced  from  spots 
as  large  as  the  circumference  of  a  half-bushel  measure. 
This  singular  appearance  induced  me  to  inquire  the  cause 
of  it  at  the  turnpike-gate. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  toll-gatherer,  "  I  wonder  not  at  the  ques- 
tion, but  I  am  unable  to  give  you  a  satisfactory  answer. 
Indeed,  sir,  I  believe  I  am  bewitched,  and  that  the  turn- 
pike is  under  a  spell  of  enchantment ;  for  what  appeared 
to  me  last  night  cannot  be  a  real  transaction,  otherwise 
a  turnpike-gate  is  a  useless  thing." 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  witchcraft  or  enchantment,"  said  I ; 
;'  and  if  you  will  relate  circumstantially  what  happened  last 
night,  I  will  endeavor  to  account  for  it  by  natural  means." 

"  You  may  recollect  the  night  was  uncommonly  dark. 
Well,  sir,  just  after  I  had  closed  the  gate  for  the  night, 
down  the  turnpike,  as  far  as  my  eye  could  reach,  I  beheld 
what  at  first  appeared  to  be  two  armies  engaged.      The 


THE  MISSING   MAX.  27 

report  of  the  musketry,  and  the  flashes  of  their  firelocks, 
were  incessant  and  continuous.  As  this  strange  spectacle 
approached  me  with  the  fury  of  a  tornado,  the  noise  in- 
creased ;  and  the  appearance  rolled  on  in  one  compact  body 
over  the  surface  of  the  ground.  The  most  splendid  fire- 
works rose  out  of  the  earth  and  encircled  this  moving 
spectacle.  The  divers  tints  of  the  rainbow,  the  most  brill- 
iant dyes  that  the  sun  lays  in  the  lap  of  spring,  added  to 
the  whole  family  of  gems,  could  not  display  a  more  beau- 
tiful, radiant,  and  dazzling  spectacle  than  accompanied  the 
black  horse.  You  would  have  thought  all  the  stars  of 
heaven  had  met  in  merriment  on  the  turnpike.  In  the 
midst  of  this  luminous  configuration  sat  a  man,  distinctly 
to  be  seen,  in  a  miserable-looking  chair,  drawn  by  a  black 
horse.  The  turnpike-gate  ought,  by  the  laws  of  Nature 
and  the  laws  of  the  State,  to  have  made  a  wreck  of  the 
whole,  and  have  dissolved  the  enchantment ;  but  no,  the 
horse  without  an  effort  passed  over  the  gate,  and  drew 
the  man  and  chair  horizontally  after  him  without  touch- 
ing the  bar.  This  was  what  I  call  enchantment.  What 
think  you,  sir?" 

"  My  friend,"  said  I,  "  you  have  grossly  magnified  a  nat- 
ural occurrence.  The  man  was  Peter  Rugg,  on  his  way 
to  Boston.  It  is  true,  his  horse  travelled  with  unequalled 
speed,  but  as  he  reared  high  his  forefeet,  he  could  not 
help  displacing  the  thousand  small  stones  on  which  he 
trod,  which  flying  in  all  directions  struck  one  another,  and 
resounded  and  scintillated.  The  top  bar  of  your  gate  is  not 
more  than  two  feet  from  the  ground,  and  Rugg's  horse  at 
every  vault  could  easily  lift  the  carriage  over  that  gate." 

This  satisfied  Mr.  McDoubt,  and  I  was  pleased  at  that 
occurrence ;  for  otherwise  Mr.  McDoubt,  who  is  a  worthy 
man,  late  from  the  Highlands,  might  have  added  to  his 
calendar  of  superstitions.     Having  thus  disenchanted  the 


28  PETER  RUGG, 

macadamized  road  and  the  turnpike-gate,  and  also  Mr. 
MePoubt,  I  pursued  my  journey  homeward  to  New  York. 

Little  did  I  expect  to  see  or  hear  anything  further  of  Mr. 
Rugg,  for  he  was  now  more  than  twelve  hours  in  advance 
of  me.  I  could  hear  nothing  of  him  on  my  way  to  Eliza- 
bethtown,  and  therefore  concluded  that  during  the  past 
night  he  had  turned  off  from  the  turnpike  and  pursued 
a  westerly  direction ;  but  just  before  I  arrived  at  Powles's 
Hook,  I  observed  a  considerable  collection  of  passengers 
in  the  ferry-boat,  all  standing  motionless,  and  steadily 
looking  at  the  same  object.  One  of  the  ferry -men,  Mr. 
Hardy,  who  knew  me  well,  observing  my  approach  de- 
layed a  minute,  in  order  to  afford  me  a  passage,  and 
coming  up,  said,  "  Mr.  Dunwell,  we  have  a  curiosity  on 
board  that  would  puzzle  Dr.  Mitchell." 

"  Some  strange  fish,  I  suppose,  has  found  its  way  into 
the  Hudson." 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a  man  who  looks  as  if  he  had 
lain  hidden  in  the  ark,  and  had  just  now  venured  out. 
He  has  a  little  girl  with  him,  the  counterpart  of  himself, 
and  the  finest  horse  you  ever  saw,  harnessed  to  the 
queerest-looking  carriage  that  ever  was  made." 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  I,  "  you  have,  indeed,  hooked  a 
prize ;  no  one  before  you  could  ever  detain  Peter  Rugg 
long  enough  to  examine  him." 

"  Do  you  know  the  man  ? "  said  Mr.  Hardy. 

"  No,  nobody  knows  him,  but  everybody  has  seen  him. 
Detain  him  as  long  as  possible  ;  delay  the  boat  under  any 
pretence,  cut  the  gear  of  the  horse,  do  anything  to  detain 
him." 

As  I  entered  the  ferry-boat,  I  was  struck  at  the  spectacle 
before  me.  There,  indeed,  sat  Peter  Rugg  and  Jenny  Rugg 
in  the  chair,  and  there  stood  the  black  horse,  all  as  quiet 
as  lambs,  surrounded  by  more  than  fifty  men  and  women, 


THE   MISSING   MAX.  29 

who  seemed  to  have  lost  all  their  senses  but  one.  Not  a 
motion,  not  a  breath,  not  a  nestle.  They  were  all  eye. 
Rugg  appeared  to  them  to  be  a  man  not  of  this  world  ;  and 
they  appeared  to  Rugg  a  strange  generation  of  men.  Rugg 
spoke  not,  and  they  spoke  not;  nor  was  I  disposed  to  dis- 
turb the  calm,  satisfied  to  reconnoitre  Rugg  in  a  state  of 
rest.  Presently,  Rugg  observed  in  a  low  voice,  addressed 
to  nobody,  "A  new  contrivance,  horses  instead  of  oars  ; 
Boston  folks  are  full  of  notions." 

It  was  plain  that  Rugg  was  of  Dutch  extraction.  He 
had  on  three  pairs  of  small  clothes,  called  in  former 
days  of  simplicity  breeches,  not  much  the  worse  for 
wear  ;  but  time  had  proved  the  fabric,  and  shrunk  one 
more  than  anotber,  so  that  they  showed  at  the  knees 
their  different  qualities  and  colors.  His  several  waist- 
coats, the  flaps  of  which  rested  on  his  knees,  made  him 
appear  rather  corpulent.  His  capacious  drab  coat  would 
supply  the  stuff  for  half  a  dozen  modern  ones ;  the  sleeves 
were  like  meal  bags,  in  the  cuffs  of  which  you  might 
nurse  a  child  to  sleep.  His  hat,  probably  once  black,  now 
of  a  tan  color,  was  neither  round  nor  crooked,  but  in  shape 
much  like  the  one  President  Monroe  wore  on  his  late  tour. 
This  dress  gave  the  rotund  face  of  Rugg  an  antiquated  dig- 
nity. The  man,  though  deeply  sunburned,  did  not  appear 
to  be  more  than  thirty  years  of  age.  He  had  lost  his  sad 
and  anxious  look,  was  quite  composed,  and  seemed  happy. 
The  chair  in  which  Rugg  sat  was  very  capacious,  evidently 
made  for  service,  and  calculated  to  last  for  ages;  the 
timber  would  supply  material  for  three  modern  carriages. 
This  chair,  like  a  Nantucket  coach,  would  answer  for  every- 
thing that  ever  went  on  wheels.  The  horse,  too,  was  an 
object  of  curiosity ;  his  majestic  height,  his  natural  mane 
and  tail,  gave  him  a  commanding  appearance,  and  his 
large  open  nostrils  indicated  inexhaustible  wind.     It  was 


30  PETER  RUGG, 

apparent  that  the  hoofs  of  his  forefeet  had  been  split, 
probably  on  some  newly  macadamized  road,  and  were  now 
growing  together  again ;  so  that  John  Spring  was  not 
altogether  in  the  wrong. 

How  long  this  dumb  scene  would  otherwise  have  con- 
tinued I  cannot  tell.  Rugg  discovered  no  sign  of  im- 
patience. But  Rugg's  horse  having  been  quiet  more  than 
five  minutes,  had  no  idea  of  standing  idle ;  he  began  to 
whinny,  and  in  a  moment  after,  with  his  right  forefoot  he 
started  a  plank.  Said  Rugg,  "  My  horse  is  impatient,  he 
sees  the  North  End.  You  must  be  quick,  or  he  will  be 
ungovernable." 

At  these  words,  the  horse  raised  his  left  forefoot ;  and 
when  he  laid  it  down  every  inch  of  the  ferry-boat  trembled. 
Two  men  immediately  seized  Rugg's  horse  by  the  nostrils. 
The  horse  nodded,  and  both  of  them  were  in  the  Hudson. 
While  we  were  fishing  up  the  men,  the  horse  was  perfectly 
quiet. 

"  Fret  not  the  horse,"  said  Rugg,  "  and  he  will  do  no 
harm.  He  is  only  anxious,  like  myself,  to  arrive  at  yonder 
beautiful  shore;  he  sees  the  North  Church,  and  smells 
his  own  stable." 

"  Sir,"  said  I  to  Rugg,  practising  a  little  deception, 
"  pray  tell  me,  for  I  am  a  stranger  here,  what  river  is  this, 
and  what  city  is  that  opposite,  for  you  seem  to  be  an 
inhabitant  of  it  ? " 

"  This  river,  sir,  is  called  Mystic  River,  and  this  is  Win- 
nisimmct  ferry,  —  we  have  retained  the  Indian  names, — 
and  that  town  is  Boston.  You  must,  indeed,  be  a  stranger 
in  these  parts,  not  to  know  that  yonder  is  Boston,  the 
capital  of  the  New  England  provinces." 

"  Pray,  sir,  how  long  have  you  been  absent  from 
Boston  ? " 

"  Why,  that  I  cannot  exactly  tell.     I  lately  went  with 


THE   MISSING  MAX.  31 

this  little  girl  of  mine  to  Concord,  to  see  my  friends ; 
and  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you,  in  returning  lost  the  way, 
and  have  been  travelling  ever  since.  No  one  would  direct 
me  right.  It  is  cruel  to  mislead  a  traveller.  My  horse, 
Lightfoot,  has  boxed  the  compass ;  and  it  seems  to  me  he 
has  boxed  it  back  again.  But,  sir,  you  perceive  my  horse 
is  uneasy  ;  Lightfoot,  as  yet,  has  only  given  a  hint  and  a 
nod.     I  cannot  be  answerable  for  his  heels." 

At  these  words  Lightfoot  reared  his  long  tail,  and 
snapped  it  as  you  would  a  whiplash.  The  Hudson  re- 
verberated with  the  sound.  Instantly  the  six  horses  be- 
gan to  move  the  boat.  The  Hudson  was  a  sea  of  glass, 
smooth  as  oil,  not  a  ripple.  The  horses,  from  a  smart  trot, 
soon  pressed  into  a  gallop ;  water  now  run  over  the  gun- 
wale ;  the  ferry-boat  was  soon  buried  in  an  ocean  of  foam, 
and  the  noise  of  the  spray  was  like  the  roaring  of  many 
waters.  When  we  arrived  at  New  York,  you  might  see 
the  beautiful  white  wake  of  the  ferry-boat  across  the 
Hudson. 

Though  Rugg  refused  to  pay  toll  at  turnpikes,  when  Mr. 
Hardy  reached  his  hand  for  the  ferriage,  Rugg  readily  put 
his  hand  into  one  of  his  many  pockets,  took  out  a  piece 
of  silver,  and  handed  it  to  Hardy. 

••What  is  this?"  said  Mr.  Hardy. 

"  It  is  thirty  shillings,"  said  Rugg. 

"  It  might  once  have  been  thirty  shillings,  old  tenor," 
said  Mr.  Hardy,  "  but  it  is  not  at  present." 

"  The  money  is  good  English  coin,"  said  Rugg ;  "  my 
grandfather  brought  a  bag  of  them  from  England,  and 
had  them  hot  from  the  mint." 

Hearing  this,  I  approached  near  to  Rugg,  and  asked 
permission  to  see  the  coin.  It  was  a  half-crown,  coined 
by  the  English  Parliament,  dated  in  the  year  1649.  On 
one    side,   "  The   Commonwealth    of    England,"    and    St. 


32  PETER  RUGG, 

George's  cross  encircled  with  a  wreath  of  laurel.  On  the 
other,  "  God  with  us,"  and  a  harp  and  St.  George's  cross 
united.  I  winked  at  Mr.  Hardy,  and  pronounced  it  good 
current  money ;  and  said  loudly,  "  I  will  not  permit  the 
gentleman  to  be  imposed  on,  for  I  will  exchange  the 
money  myself." 

On  this,  Rugg  spoke,  —  "  Please  to  give  me  your  name, 
sir." 

"  My  name  is  Dunwell,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"  Mr.  Dunwell,"  said  Rugg,  "  you  are  the  only  honest 
man  I  have  seen  since  I  left  Boston.  As  you  are  a  stran- 
ger here,  my  house  is  your  home ;  Dame  Rugg  will  be 
happy  to  see  her  husband's  friend.  Step  into  my  chair, 
sir,  there  is  room  enough ;  move  a  little,  Jenny,  for  the 
gentleman,  and  we  will  be  in  Middle  Street  in  a  minute." 

Accordingly  I  took  a  seat  by  Peter  Rugg. 

"  Were  you  never  in  Boston  before  ? "  said  Rugg. 

"  No,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  you  will  now  see  the  queen  of  New  England,  a 
town  second  only  to  Philadelphia,  in  all  North  America." 

"  You  forget  New  York,"  said  I. 

"Poh,  New  York  is  nothing;  though  I  never  was  there. 
I  am  told  you  might  put  all  New  York  in  our  mill-pond. 
No,  sir,  New  York,  I  assure  you,  is  but  a  sorry  affair;  no 
more  to  be  compared  with  Boston  than  a  wigwam  with 
a  palace." 

As  Rugg's  horse  turned  into  Pearl  Street,  I  looked  Rugg 
as  fully  in  the  face  as  good  manners  would  allow,  and  said, 
"  Sir,  if  this  is  Boston,  I  acknowledge  New  York  is  not 
worthy  to  be  one  of  its  suburbs." 

Before  we  had  proceeded  far  in  Pearl  Street,  Rugg's 
countenance  changed :  his  nerves  began  to  twitch  ;  his  eyes 
trembled  in  their  sockets;  he  was  evidently  bewildered. 
"  What  is  the  matter,  Mr.  Rugg ;  you  seem  disturbed." 


THE  MISSING   MAX.  33 

"  This  surpasses  all  human  comprehension  ;  if  you  know, 
sir,  where  we  are,  I  beseech  you  to  tell  me." 

"  If  this  place,"  I  replied,  "  is  not  Boston,  it  must  be 
New  York." 

"  No,  sir,  it  is  not  Boston ;  nor  can  it  be  New  York. 
How  could  I  be  in  New  York,  which  is  nearly  two  hun- 
dred miles  from  Boston  ?  " 

By  this  time  we  had  passed  into  Broadway,  and  then 
Bogg,  in  truth,  discovered  a  chaotic  mind.  "  There  is 
no  such  place  as  this  in  North  America.  This  is  all  the 
effect  of  enchantment ;  this  is  a  grand  delusion,  nothing 
real.  Here  is  seemingly  a  great  city,  magnificent  houses, 
shops  and  goods,  men  and  women  innumerable,  and  as 
busy  as  in  real  life,  all  sprung  up  in  one  night  from  the 
wilderness ;  or  what  is  more  probable,  some  tremendous 
convulsion  of  Nature  has  thrown  London  or  Amsterdam 
on  the  shores  of  New  England.  Or,  possibly,  I  may  be 
dreaming,  though  the  night  seems  rather  long ;  but  before 
now  I  have  sailed  in  one  night  to  Amsterdam,  bought  goods 
of  Yandogger,  and  returned  to  Boston  before  morning." 

At  this  moment  a  hue-and-cry  was  heard,  "  Stop  the 
madmen,  they  will  endanger  the  lives  of  thousands  ! "  In 
vain  hundreds  attempted  to  stop  Rugg's  horse.  Lightfoot 
interfered  with  nothing;  his  course  was  straight  as  a 
shooting-star.  But  on  my  part,  fearful  that  before  night 
I  should  find  myself  behind  the  Alleghanies,  I  addressed 
Mr.  Bogg  in  a  tone  of  entreaty,  and  requested  him  to 
restrain  the  horse  and  permit  me  to  alight. 

"  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  we  shall  be  in  Boston  before 
dark,  and  Dame  Rugg  will  be  most  exceeding  glad  to 
sec  us." 

"  Mr.  Rugg,"  said  I,  "  you  must  excuse  me.  Pray  look 
to  the  west ;  see  that  thunder-cloud  swelling  with  rage,  as 
if  in  pursuit  of  us." 

3 


34  PETER  RUGG, 

"  Ah,"  said  Rugg,  "  it  is  in  vain  to  attempt  to  escape. 
I  know  that  cloud ;  it  is  collecting  new  wrath  to  spend  on 
my  head."  Then  checking  his  horse,  he  permitted  me  to 
descend,  saying,  "  Farewell,  Mr.  Dunwell,  I  shall  be  happy 
to  see  you  in  Boston ;  I  live  in  Middle  Street." 

It  is  uncertain  in  what  direction  Mr.  Rugg  pursued  his 
course,  after  he  disappeared  in  Broadway ;  but  one  thing 
is  sufficiently  known  to  everybody,  —  that  in  the  course  of 
two  months  after  he  was  seen  in  New  York,  he  found  his 
way  most  opportunely  to  Boston. 

It  seems  the  estate  of  Peter  Rugg  had  recently  fallen  to 
the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts  for  want  of  heirs ; 
and  the  Legislature  had  ordered  the  solicitor-general  to 
advertise  and  sell  it  at  public  auction.  Happening  to  be 
in  Boston  at  the  time,  and  observing  his  advertisement, 
which  described  a  considerable  extent  of  land,  I  felt  a 
kindly  curiosity  to  see  the  spot  where  Rugg  once  lived. 
Taking  the  advertisement  in  my  hand,  I  wandered  a  little 
way  down  Middle  Street,  and  without  asking  a  question 
of  any  one,  when  I  came  to  a  certain  spot  I  said  to  my- 
self, "  This  is  Rugg's  estate ;  I  will  proceed  no  farther. 
This  must  be  the  spot;  it  is  a  counterpart  of  Peter 
Rugg."  The  premises,  indeed,  looked  as  if  they  had  ful- 
filled a  sad  prophecy.  Fronting  on  Middle  Street,  they 
extended  in  the  rear  to  Ann  Street,  and  embraced  about 
half  an  acre  of  land.  It  was  not  uncommon  in  former 
times  to  have  half  an  acre  for  a  house-lot ;  for  an  acre 
of  land  then,  in  many  parts  of  Boston,  was  not  more 
valuable  than  a  foot  in  some  places  at  present.  The  old 
mansion-house  had  become  a  powder-post,  and  been  blown 
away.  One  other  building,  uninhabited,  stood  ominous, 
courting  dilapidation.  The  street  had  been  so  much  raised 
that  the  bed-chamber  had  descended  to  the  kitchen  and  was 
level  with  the  street.     The  house  seemed  conscious  of  its 


THE  MISSING  MAN.  35 

fate ;  and  as  though  tired  of  standing  there,  the  front  was 
fast  retreating  from  the  rear,  and  waiting  the  next  soutli 
wind  to  project  itself  into  the  street.  If  the  most  wan- 
animals  had  sought  a  place  of  refuge,  here  they  would 
have  rendezvoused.  Here,  under  the  ridge-pole,  the  crow 
would  have  perched  in  security ;  and  in  the  recesses  be- 
low, you  might  have  caught  the  fox  and  the  weasel  asleep. 
u  The  hand  of  destiny,"  said  I,  "  has  pressed  heavy  on 
this  spot ;  still  heavier  on  the  former  owners.  Strange 
that  so  large  a  lot  of  land  as  this  should  want  an  heir ! 
Yet  Peter  Rugg,  at  this  day,  might  pass  by  his  own  door- 
stone,  and  ask,  '  Who  once  lived  here  ? '  " 

The  auctioneer,  appointed  by  the  solicitor  to  sell  this 
estate,  was  a  man  of  eloquence,  as  many  of  the  auctioneers 
of  Boston  are.  The  occasion  seemed  to  warrant,  and  his 
duty  urged,  him  to  make  a  display.  He  addressed  his 
audience  as  follows, — 

"  The  estate,  gentlemen,  which  we  offer  you  this  day, 
was  once  the  property  of  a  family  now  extinct.  For  that 
reason  it  has  escheated  to  the  Commonwealth.  Lest  any 
one  of  you  should  be  deterred  from  bidding  on  so  large 
an  estate  as  this  for  fear  of  a  disputed  title,  I  am  author- 
ized by  the  solicitor-general  to  proclaim  that  the  purchaser 
shall  have  the  best  of  all  titles,  —  a  warranty-deed  from  the 
Commonwealth.  I  state  this,  gentlemen,  because  I  know 
there  is  an  idle  rumor  in  this  vicinity,  that  one  Peter  Rugg, 
the  original  owner  of  this  estate,  is  still  living.  This 
rumor,  gentlemen,  has  no  foundation,  and  can  have  no 
foundation  in  the  nature  of  things.  It  originated  about 
two  years  since,  from  the  incredible  story  of  one  Jonathan 
Dunwell,  of  New  York.  Mrs.  Croft,  indeed,  whose  hus- 
band I  see  present,  and  whose  mouth  waters  for  this  estate, 
has  countenanced  this  fiction.  But,  gentlemen,  was  it  ever 
known  that  any  estate,  especially  an  estate  of  this  value, 


36  PETER  KUGG, 

lay  unclaimed  for  nearly  half  a  century,  if  any  heir,  ever  so 
remote,  were  existing?  For,  gentlemen,  all  agree  that  old 
Peter  Rugg,  if  living,  would  he  at  least  one  hundred  years 
of  age.  It  is  said  that  he  and  his  daughter,  with  a  horse 
and  chaise,  were  missed  more  than  half  a  century  ago  ;  and 
because  they  never  returned  home,  forsooth,  they  must  be 
now  living,  and  will  some  day  come  and  claim  this  great 
estate.  Such  logic,  gentlemen,  never  led  to  a  good  invest- 
ment. Let  not  this  idle  story  cross  the  noble  purpose  of 
consigning  these  ruins  to  the  genius  of  architecture.  If 
such  a  contingency  could  check  the  spirit  of  enterprise, 
farewell  to  all  mercantile  excitement.  Your  surplus  money, 
instead  of  refreshing  your  sleep  with  the  golden  dreams  of 
new  sources  of  speculation,  would  turn  to  the  nightmare. 
A  man's  money,  if  not  employed,  serves  only  to  disturb  his 
rest.  Look,  then,  to  the  prospect  before  you.  Here  is  half 
an  acre  of  land,  —  more  than  twenty  thousand  square  feet,  — 
a  corner  lot,  with  wonderful  capabilities ;  none  of  your  con- 
tracted lots  of  forty  feet  by  fifty,  where,  in  dog-days,  you 
can  breathe  only  through  your  scuttles.  On  the  contrary, 
an  architect  cannot  contemplate  this  lot  of  land  without 
rapture,  for  here  is  room  enough  for  his  genius  to  shame 
the  tern]  ile  of  Solomon.  Then  the  prospect — how  com- 
manding !  To  the  east,  so  near  to  the  Atlantic  that  Nep- 
tune, freighted  with  the  select  treasures  of  the  whole  earth, 
can  knock  at  your  door  with  his  trident.  From  the  west, 
the  produce  of  the  river  of  Paradise  —  the  Connecticut  — 
will  soon,  by  the  blessings  of  steam,  railways,  and  canals, 
pass  under  your  windows  ;  and  thus,  on  this  spot,  Neptune 
shall  marry  Ceres,  and  Pomona  from  Roxbury,  and  Flora 
from  Cambridge,  shall  dance  at  the  wedding. 

"  Gentlemen  of  science,  men  of  taste,  ye  of  the  literary 
emporium, —  for  I  perceive  many  of  you  present, —  to  you 
this  is  holy  ground.     If  the  spot  on  which  in  times  past 


THE  MISSING  MAN.  37 

a  hero  left  only  the  print  of  a  footstep  is  now  sacred,  of 
what  price  is  the  birthplace  of  one  who  all  the  world 
knows  was  born  in  Middle  Street,  directly  opposite  to  this 
lot ;  and  who,  if  his  birthplace  were  not  well  known,  would 
now  be  claimed  by  more  than  seven  cities.  To  you,  then, 
the  value  of  these  premises  must  be  inestimable.  For 
ere  long  there  will  arise  in  full  view  of  the  edifice  to  be 
erected  here,  a  monument,  the  wonder  and  veneration  of 
the  world.  A  column  shall  spring  to  the  clouds  ;  and  on 
that  column  will  be  engraven  one  word  which  will  convey 
all  that  is  wise  in  intellect,  useful  in  science,  good  in 
morals,  prudent  in  counsel,  and  benevolent  in  principle, — 
a  name  of  one  who,  when  living,  was  the  patron  of  the 
poor,  the  delight  of  the  cottage,  and  the  admiration  of 
kings ;  now  dead,  worth  the  whole  seven  wise  men  of 
Greece.  Need  I  tell  you  his  name  ?  lie  fixed  the  thun- 
der and  guided  the  lightning. 

"  Men  of  the  North  End  !  Need  I  appeal  to  your  patriot- 
ism, in  order  to  enhance  the  value  of  this  lot  ?  The  earth 
affords  no  such  scenery  as  this  ;  there,  around  that  corner, 
lived  James  Otis ;  here,  Samuel  Adams ;  there,  Joseph 
Warren ;  and  around  that  other  corner,  Josiah  Quincy. 
Here  was  the  birthplace  of  Freedom  ;  here  Liberty  was 
born,  and  nursed,  and  grew  to  manhood.  Here  man  was 
newly  created.  Here  is  the  nursery  of  American  Inde- 
pendence —  I  am  too  modest  —  here  began  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  world ;  a  thousand  generations  hence 
millions  of  men  will  cross  the  Atlantic  just  to  look  at 
the  north  end  of  Boston.  Your  fathers  —  what  do  I 
say  —  yourselves, — yes,  this  moment,  I  behold  several  at- 
tending this  auction  who  lent  a  hand  to  rock  the  cradle 
of  Independence. 

"  Men  of  speculation, — ye  who  are  deaf  to  everything  ex- 
cept the  sound  of  money,  —  you,  I  know,  will  give  me  both 


38  PETEB  UUGG, 

of  your  cars  when  1  tell  you  the  city  of  Boston  must  have 
a  piece  of  this  estate  in  order  to  widen  Ann  Street.  Do 
you  hear  me,  —  do  you  all  hear  me  ?  I  say  the  city  must 
have  a  large  piece  of  this  land  in  order  to  widen  Ann 
Street.  What  a  chance  !  The  city  scorns  to  take  a  man's 
land  for  nothing.  If  it  6eizes  your  property,  it  is  gen- 
erous beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice.  The  only  oppres- 
sion is,  you  are  in  danger  of  being  smothered  under  a  load 
of  wealth.  "Witness  the  old  lady  who  lately  died  of  a 
broken  heart  when  the  mayor  paid  her  for  a  piece  of  her 
kitchen-garden.  All  the  faculty  agreed  that  the  sight  of 
the  treasure,  which  the  mayor  incautiously  paid  her  in 
dazzling  dollars,  warm  from  the  mint,  sped  joyfully  all  the 
blood  of  her  body  into  her  heart,  and  rent  it  with  raptures. 
Therefore,  let  him  who  purchases  this  estate  fear  his  good 
fortune,  and  not  Peter  Rugg.  Bid,  then,  liberally,  and  do 
not  let  the  name  of  Rugg  damp  your  ardor.  How  much 
will  you  give  per  foot  for  this  estate  ? " 

Thus  spoke  the  auctioneer,  and  gracefully  waved  his 
ivory  hammer.  From  fifty  to  seventy-five  cents  per  foot 
were  offered  in  a  few  moments.  The  bidding  labored  from 
seventy-five  to  ninety.  At  length  one  dollar  was  offered. 
The  auctioneer  seemed  satisfied  ;  and  looking  at  his  watch, 
said  he  would  knock  off  the  estate  in  five  minutes,  if  no 
one  offered  more. 

There  was  a  deep  silence  during  this  short  period. 
While  the  hammer  was  suspended,  a  strange  rumbling 
noise  was  heard,  which  arrested  the  attention  of  every 
one.  Presently,  it  was  like  the  sound  of  many  shipwrights 
driving  home  the  bolts  of  a  seventy-four.  As  the  sound 
approached  nearer,  some  exclaimed,  "  The  buildings  in  the 
new  market  arc  falling  in  promiscuous  ruins."  Others 
said,  "  No,  it  is  an  earthquake  ;  we  perceive  the  earth 
tremble."     <  (there  said,  "  Not  so  ;  the  sound  proceeds  from 


THE   MISSING   MAN.  39 

Hanover  Street,  and  approaches  nearer  ; "  and  this  proved 
true,  for  presently  Peter  Rugg  was  in  the  midst  of  us. 

"  Alas,  Jenny,"  said  Peter,  "  I  am  ruined  ;  our  house 
has  been  burned,  and  here  are  all  our  neighbors  around  the 
ruins.     Heaven  grant  your  mother,  Dame  Rugg,  is  safe." 

"  They  don't  look  like  our  neighbors,"  said  Jenny  ;  "  but 
sure  enough  our  house  is  burned,  and  nothing  left  but 
the  door-stone  and  an  old  cedar  post.  Do  ask  where 
mother  is." 

In  the  mean  time  more  than  a  thousand  men  had  sur- 
rounded Rugg  and  his  horse  and  chair.  Yet  neither 
Rugg,  personally,  nor  his  horse  and  carriage,  attracted 
more  attention  than  the  auctioneer.  The  confident  look 
and  searching  eyes  of  Rugg  carried  more  conviction  to 
every  one  present  that  the  estate  was  his,  than  could  any 
parchment  or  paper  with  signature  and  seal.  The  impres- 
sion which  the  auctioneer  had  just  made  on  the  company 
was  effaced  in  a  moment ;  and  although  the  latter  words  of 
the  auctioneer  were,  "  Fear  not  Peter  Rugg,"  the  moment 
the  auctioneer  met  the  eye  of  Rugg  his  occupation  was 
gone ;  his  arm  fell  down  to  his  hips,  his  late  lively  hammer 
hung  heavy  in  his  hand,  and  the  auction  was  forgotten. 
The  black  horse,  too,  gave  his  evidence.  He  knew  his 
journey  was  ended ;  for  he  stretched  himself  into  a  horse 
and  a  half,  rested  his  head  over  the  cedar  post,  and 
whinnied  thrice,  causing  his  harness  to  tremble  from 
headstall  to  crupper. 

Rugg  then  stood  upright  in  his  chair,  and  asked  with 
some  authority,  "  Who  has  demolished  my  house  in  my 
absence,  for  I  sec  no  signs  of  a  conflagration  ?  I  demand 
by  what  accident  this  has  happened,  and  wherefore  this 
collection  of  strange  people  has  assembled  before  my  door- 
step. I  thought  I  knew  every  man  in  Boston,  but  you 
appear  to  me  a  new  generation  of  men.    Yet  I  am  familiar 


40  PETER  RUGG. 

with  many  of  the  countenances  here  present,  and  I  can  call 
some  of  you  by  name  ;  but  in  truth  I  do  not  recollect  that 
before  this  moment  I  ever  saw  any  one  of  you.  There,  I 
am  certain,  is  a  Winslow,  and  here  a  Sargent ;  there  stands 
a  Sewall,  and  next  to  him  a  Dudley.  Will  none  of  you 
speak  to  me,  —  or  is  this  all  a  delusion  ?  I  sec,  indeed, 
many  forms  of  men,  and  no  want  of  eyes,  but  of  motion, 
speech,  and  hearing,  you  seem  to  be  destitute.  Strange  ! 
Will  no  one  inform  me  who  lias  demolished  my  house  ?  " 

Then  spake  a  voice  from  the  crowd,  but  whence  it  came 
I  could  not  discern  :  "  There  is  nothing  strange  here  but 
yourself,  Mr.  Rugg.  Time,  which  destroys  and  renews  all 
things,  has  dilapidated  your  house,  and  placed  us  here. 
You  have  suffered  many  years  under  an  illusion.  The 
tempest  which  you  profanely  defied  at  Menotomy  has  at 
length  subsided  ;  but  you  will  never  see  home,  for  your 
house  and  wife  and  neighbors  have  all  disappeared.  Your 
estate,  indeed,  remains,  but  no  home.  You  were  cut  off 
from  the  last  age,  and  you  can  never  be  fitted  to  the 
present.  Your  home  is  gone,  and  you  can  never  have 
another  home  in  this  world." 


THE   LATE  JOSEPH  NATTEESTEOM. 


THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTROM. 


THE  great  wealth  of  the  late  Joseph  Natterstrom,  of 
New  York,  was  connected  with  several  remarkable 
incidents,  which  under  the  pen  of  a  writer  of  ordinary 
imagination  might  grow  into  a  romantic  tale. 

The  merchant  of  the  United  States  frequently  traces  the 
origin  of  his  prosperity  to  foreign  climes.  He  holds  a 
magic  wand  in  his  hand  which  reaches  to  the  extremity  of 
the  globe  ;  and  if  he  waves  it  judiciously,  he  levies  from 
all  quarters  of  the  world  princely  revenues.  The  restless 
sea  and  its  richest  contents,  desolate  islands  and  the  most 
circuitous  rivers,  the  cultivated  territory  and  the  intermi- 
nable wilderness,  are  as  much  the  merchant's,  as  the  rain 
and  sunshine,  the  warm  breezes  and  the  fattening  dews, 
are  the  property  of  the  husbandman.  But  the  embryo 
fortune  of  Mr.  Xatterstrom  was  not  of  mercantile  origin ; 
it  came  from  the  heart  of  Arabia,  and  grew  out  of  an  in- 
cursion of  the  Wheehabites,  —  a  reforming  and  fanatic  sect 
of  Mahometans,  who  date  from  Abdul  Wheehab,  of  the  last 
century.  This  man,  like  Martin  Luther,  thought  a  refor- 
mation in  morals  and  discipline  had  become  necessary. 

About  the  year  1790,  Ebn  Beg  and  Ibrahim  Hamet  were 
returning  home  from  Mecca  to  Abou  Jbee,  a  village  not  far 
from  the  Rumleah  mountains.  They  had  united  religion 
and  trade  together,  as  is  sometimes  done  here  by  the  sons 
of  Mercury.  In  performing  their  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  with 
a  caravan,  they  furthered  both  their  temporal  and  eternal 


44  THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTEBSTBOM. 

interests;  for  on  their  return  from  Mecca,  they  encoun- 
tered a  party  of  those  children  of  the  desert  who  believe 
they  have  a  divine  right  to  all  the  goods  of  this  world 
which  they  can  conquer,  and  what  they  spare,  they  credit 
to  their  magnanimity  and  generosity,  —  and  herein  they  do 
not  greatly  differ  from  most  other  people.  But  the  cara- 
van of  Beg  and  Hamet  proved  too  powerful  for  the  children 
of  Hagar,  who  became  the  prey  of  the  stranger.  The  spoils 
of  that  day  enriched  Beg  and  Hamet,  for  those  Arabs 
had  shortly  before  enriched  themselves  at  the  expense  of 
another  caravan. 

With  joyful  hearts  these  two  men  approached  home, 
having  left  the  caravan  at  the  intersection  of  the  road  that 
leads  to  Aleppo,  rejoicing  that  their  danger  was  over,  that 
they  had  honorably  obtained  an  accession  of  wealth,  and 
that  they  had  become  entitled  to  the  coveted  name  of 
Hadji.  But  there  soon  came  a  blast  from  the  desert 
which  converted  the  shady  spot,  on  which  they  had  en- 
camped, into  a  sand-heap.  When  within  a  day's  journey 
from  home  they  met  a  man  whom  they  knew.  It  was 
Ali  Beker.  Said  they,  "  Is  there  peace  at  Abou  Jbce  ? " 
"  God  is  great,  there  is  peace  at  Abou  Jbee,"  said  Ali 
Beker,  "the  peace  of  the  grave."  He  turned  his  head 
away,  and  said  no  more.  Their  hearts  withered  within 
them.  Soon  after  they  met  another  man ;  as  he  ap- 
proached them,  he  looked  at  them  earnestly  for  some 
time,  and  then  said,  "  Do  I  behold  the  unhappy  Beg  and 
Hamet ! "  and  he  tore  off  his  turban  and  flung  it  on 
the  ground.  They  passed  on,  neither  Beg  nor  Hamet 
speaking  to  each  other.  At  length  they  approached  the 
confines  of  their  village,  and  learned  the  whole.  The 
Wheehabites  had  been  there,  and  being  powerfully  resisted 
and  nearly  overcome,  they  left  nothing  but  a  heap  of  ruins 
to  tell  the  story.     Beg  and  Hamet  were  now  alone  on  the 


THE  LATE  JOSEPH  XATTERSTROM.  45 

face  of  the  earth.  They  made  a  circuit  around  Abou  Jbee, 
took  a  last  look,  and  passed  on  to  Smyrna.  There  they 
remained  some  time,  and  studied  the  French  and  English 
languages. 

From  Smyrna  they  sailed  to  Marseilles ;  and  there  they 
assumed  the  European  dress,  and  studiously  conformed 
to  the  manners  of  that  people,  —  a  seemingly  impossible 
change,  from  a  Turk  to  a  Frenchman.  From  Marseilles 
they  proceeded  on  foot  to  Paris  ;  and  after  remaining  there 
a  few  months,  they  saw  such  strange  mistakes  made,  that 
fearing  they  might  lose  their  heads  without  a  chance  for 
explanation,  they  passed  on  to  London,  where  they  felt 
quite  at  home.  There  they  remained  during  the  winter  of 
1793.  Chancing  to  meet  Captain  Dixon  of  the  Xew  York 
packet,  who  had  been  in  the  Smyrna  trade,  they  became 
attached  to  him  from  an  accidental  expression  which  fell 
from  his  lips  at  the  New  York  Coffee  House.  Some  one 
had  asserted  that  there  were  not  twenty  merchants  in  the 
city  of  Xew  York  who  could  pass  for  genuine  merchants 
on  the  Royal  Exchange  of  London,  —  such  was  the  mer- 
cantile honor  of  Englishmen.  An  appeal  was  made  to 
Captain  Dixon,  who,  waving  a  direct  answer,  said,  "  If  you 
wish  to  find  mercantile  honor  in  perfection,  surpassing  the 
comprehension  of  a  European,  you  must  go  to  Turkey.  A 
Turkish  merchant's  word  is  better  than  a  Christian  mer- 
chant's bond.  The  word  is  sacred ;  the  bond  may  be  dis- 
puted. I  have  seen  many  a  Turk  in  whose  skin  you  might 
sew  up  half  a  dozen  very  decent  Christians."  "Allah!" 
said  Beg,  in  rapture,  "  an  infidel  has  spoken  the  truth  !  I 
wish  the  Prophet  could  hear  that !  "  This  incident  led  to 
an  acquaintance  with  Captain  Dixon,  who  gave  them  such 
an  account  of  the  Xew  World  as  excited  their  curiosity 
to  see  it.  Accordingly,  they  sailed  soon  after  with  Cap- 
tain Dixon,  for  Xew  York. 


46  THE   LATE  JOSEPH   NATTERSTROM. 

Beg  and  Ilamct  could  now  speak  the  English  lan- 
guage quite  fluently ;  and  concealing  that  they  were 
Turks,  they  passed  in  the  principal  cities  and  towns 
for  very  decent  Christians.  Among  the  people  of  New 
England  they  passed  current  for  two  Dutchmen  of  New 
York  or  Pennsylvania ;  and  at  Baltimore  they  were  sup- 
posed to  be  two  Scotchmen,  so  prudently  and  discreetly 
did  they  demean  themselves.  They  spent  a  year  in  the 
United  States,  the  chief  of  the  time  at  New  York ;  and 
during  that  time  they  found  ample  food  for  their  minds. 
Hamet  told  Captain  Dixon  that  he  had  brought  him  not 
only  to  a  new  world,  but  to  a  new  race  of  men  :  a  people 
not  really  civilized,  yet  far  from  savage ;  not  very  good, 
nor  altogether  bad ;  not  generally  intelligent,  nor  alto- 
gether ignorant ;  a  calculating  people,  who  reckoned  up 
their  rights  as  often  as  they  did  their  money.  "  In  fine," 
said  Hamet,  "  I  perceive  this  is  a  very  young  country,  but 
a  very  old  people." 

As  Beg  and  Hamet  travelled  through  the  States,  they 
were  surprised  to  find  so  much  order  and  tranquillity 
among  a  people  without  any  apparent  government;  for 
during  nearly  the  whole  year  there  was  no  appearance  of 
any  government.  In  divers  provinces,  each  of  them  bigger 
than  the  pachalic  of  Damascus,  a  few  men  would  meet 
once  a  year,  wind  up  the  government  like  a  clock,  and 
leave  it  to  run  at  random;  for  after  the  public  agents, 
like  a  dispersed  caravan,  had  hastened  home,  all  signs  of 
government  vanished.  "  How  different,"  said  Beg,  "  from 
all  other  countries,  where  the  first  object  of  government 
is  to  make  itself  seen,  heard,  and  felt ;  whereas,  among 
this  strange  people,  you  can  neither  see,  hear,  nor  feel  the 
government." 

Beg  was  greatly  diverted  in  attending  a  lawsuit  at  Boston. 
"  There  were  five  reverend  judges,"  he  said,  "  with  twelve 


THE  LATE  JOSEPH  XATTERSTROM.  47 

men  to  help  them,  aided  by  four  counsellors  of  the  law, 
who  consumed  a  whole  day  and  part  of  a  night  in  settling 
a  case  of  twenty-five  dollars  ;  and  "  said  Beg,  laughing, "  the 
next  morning  the  jury,  as  they  called  the  twelve  men, 
came  solemnly  into  court  and  said  they  could  not  agree, 
and  never  would  agree.  Whereas,"  said  Beg,  "  one  of  our 
cadis  alone  would  have  settled  it  in  twenty  minutes." 

A  few  days  previous  to  Beg  and  Hamet's  return  to 
Smyrna,  as  Beg  was  passing  down  Wall  Street,  he  heard 
a  man  say,  as  he  was  leaving  one  of  the  offices,  "  I  don't 
believe  there  is  an  honest  man  in  Xew  York."  "  Oh,  yes, 
there  is,"  said  another,  as  he  was  passing ;  "  there  is  Joe 
Xatterstrom."  At  that  moment  an  unaccountable  trance- 
like feeling  came  over  Beg,  and  a  voice,  which  seemed  to 
him  audible,  said,  "  Beg,  before  you  leave  the  country,  see 
Natterstrom  and  prove  his  honesty."  Beg  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  before  he  saw  two  men  in  conversation  on  the 
sidewalk  ;  and  as  he  passed  them  he  overheard  one  of  them 
say,  "  Can  I  trust  him  with  so  much  money  ?  Are  you  sure 
he  is  honest  ?  "  "  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  honest  as  Joe 
Xatterstrom."  This  second  incident,  to  a  Mussulman  who 
believed  in  predestination,  was  as  imperative  as  the  voice 
of  the  Prophet.  Beg  responded  aloud,  u  I  will  see  Xat- 
terstrom and  prove  his  honesty."  Soon  after  he  heard 
two  men  disputing  in  Broadway  with  no  little  passion ; 
and  as  he  approached  them,  one  said,  "  I  will  refer  it  to 
Joe  Natterstrom."  "  Agreed,"  said  the  other.  "  So,"  said 
Beg,  "  this  Xatterstrom  is  also  a  man  of  judgment.  I  will 
certainly  see  Xatterstrom  and  prove  his  honesty." 

The  next  day  Beg  inquired  for  Xatterstrom,  and  soon 
learned  that  Xatterstrom  had  become  a  proverb.  "  As 
honest  as  Joe  Xatterstrom,"  was  in  everybody's  mouth ; 
but  he  could  find  no  one  who  could  give  him  any  account 
of  Joe  Xatterstrom.     All  agreed  that  no  man  in  Xew  York 


48  THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTKOM. 

was  better  known  than  Joe  Natterstrom,  yet  no  one  of 
whom  Beg  inquired  could  identify  him  or  tell  where  he 
resided.  "  Pray,  sir,"  said  Beg  to  a  merchant  on  the  Ex- 
change, "  can  you  point  out  to  me  Joseph  Natterstrom  ?  " 
"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot,  but  his  name  and  reputation  are 
perfectly  familiar  to  me ;  ask  almost  any  man  and  he  will 
tell  you  where  he  is  to  be  seen."  To  the  same  question 
another  replied,  "  I  have  often  heard  of  honest  Joe  Natter- 
strom :  he  must  be  known  to  almost  everybody ;  but  for 
my  part,  I  do  not  recollect  ever  to  have  seen  him.  Ask  that 
gentleman  across  the  way,  in  a  drab  coat ;  he  knows  every- 
body." Beg  then  accosted  the  gentleman  with  the  drab 
coat.  "Pray, sir,  can  you  point  me  to  Joseph  Natterstrom?" 
"  Honest  Joe  Natterstrom,  do  you  mean  ?  "  "  Yes,  sir," 
said  Beg,  "  honest  Joe  Natterstrom."  "  Oh,  yes,  I  know 
Natterstrom,"  said  the  gentleman  in  drab ;  "  everybody 
knows  Natterstrom.  There  is  no  man  in  New  York  better 
known  than  Natterstrom."  "  Sir,"  said  Beg,  "  can  you 
describe  him  to  me  ?  "  "I  would  have  affirmed  a  minute 
ago,"  said  the  gentleman  in  drab, "  that  I  well'  knew  honest 
Joe  Natterstrom,  but  I  must  confess  I  cannot  describe  him 
to  you,  and  do  not  distinctly  recollect  that  I  ever  saw 
him ;  but  almost  everybody  knows  Natterstrom."  Beg  was 
astonished.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  a  man  honest  to  a 
proverb,  and  no  one  knows  him.  Honest  men  must  be 
very  plenty  in  New  York." 

Beg  now  thought  Natterstrom  must  be  known  at  some 
of  the  banks ;  and  he  inquired  at  the  City  Bank  if  Joseph 
Natterstrom  ever  transacted  business  there.  "  Do  you 
mean  honest  Joe  Natterstrom?"  said  the  cashier.  "Yes," 
said  Beg.  "  No,"  replied  the  cashier,  "  but  we  would  be 
happy  to  accommodate  Mr.  Natterstrom  if  he  wants  a  loan." 
The  cashier  of  the  Manhattan  Bank  said  he  had  paid  many 
a  cheque  drawn  in  favor  of  Joseph  Natterstrom,  but  did  not 


THE  LATE  JOSEPH  XATTERSTROM.  49 

recollect  ever  to  have  seen  Xatterstrom ;  nor  did  he  know 
at  what  bank  he  negotiated  his  business,  but  said,  "  Joseph 
Xatterstrom  can  have  any  accommodation  at  this  bank." 
In  short,  Xatterstrom  was  known  by  reputation  at  every 
bank  in  the  city,  and  it  seems,  could  have  commanded  their 
funds,  but  none  of  the  officers  knew  him. 

The  next  Sunday,  Beg  was  certain  he  had  obtained  a 
clew  to  the  person  of  Xatterstrom.  The  clergyman  on 
whose  preaching  Beg  attended  (for  though  a  Mussulman, 
Beg  believed  a  full  third  of  what  he  heard),  spoke  of 
Xatterstrom  as  a  man  of  such  integrity  that  his  name 
had  become  synonymous  with  honesty.  But  to  Beg's  sur- 
prise, the  next  day  the  preacher  told  him  he  did  not  know 
the  man,  nor  where  he  resided,  but  supposed  he  was  the 
most  familiarly  known  man  in  Xew  York  ;  for  he  had 
often  heard  the  children  in  the  streets  mention  "  honest 
Joe  Xatterstrom."  Beg,  now  in  despair  of  ever  finding 
Xatterstrom,  began  to  suppose  he  was  an  imaginary 
being ;  and  as  there  was  not  an  honest  real  man  in  Xew 
York,  the  people  had  conjured  up  a  phantom  and  given 
it  the  name  of  Joe  Xatterstrom.  Yet  this  was  not  the 
fact ;  for  a  few  days  after,  as  Beg  was  walking  through 
Pearl  Street,  he  saw  two  men  in  conversation,  and  heard 
one  of  them  say,  "  There  goes  Joe  Xatterstrom  ;  let  it  be 
settled  by  honest  Joe  Xatterstrom." 

Beg  now  followed  Xatterstrom  in  order  to  obtain  a 
knowledge  of  his  person.  "  Allah  ! "  said  Beg,  after  he 
had  obtained  a  'distinct  view,  "  he  has  the  mark  of  the 
Prophet ;  he  would  not  be  ashamed  to  look  the  Sultan  in 
the  face!"  The  next  day  Beg,  with  studied  secrecy, — 
Hamet  himself  ignorant  of  it,  —  disguised  himself  like  an 
old  man  tottering  on  the  brink  of  the  grave.  lie  painted 
his  face  more  cadaverous  than  the  natural  look  of  death  ; 
then,  taking  a  bag  of  gold   in  his  hand,  he   sought  an 

4 


50  THE  LATE  JOSEPH   NATTERSTROM. 

opportunity  about  twilight,  when  Natterstrom  was  just 
leaving  his  counting-room,  and  slowly  opening  the  door, 
be  reached  the  bag,  with  an  apparently  feeble  arm  and 
trembling  hand,  to  Natterstrom,  and  said  only,  "  Occupy 
till  Elm  Beg  comes,"  disappearing  in  a  moment,  leaving 
Natterstrom  in  reasonable  doubt  whether  the  occurrence 
was  natural  or  supernatural.  However,  he  immediately 
untied  the  bag,  and  to  his  astonishment,  counted  five 
hundred  English  guineas. 

Natterstrom  stood  some  time  in  a  revcry,  many  unutter- 
able things  probably  passing  in  his  mind.  He  then  reached 
his  ledger,  and  entered  therein,  "  October  21st,  1794,  re- 
ceived of  Mr.  Eben  Beck  five  hundred  guineas  to  be 
used  for  his  benefit."  Beg  and  Hamct,  the  next  week, 
left  the  United  States,  and  returned  by  the  way  of  Liver- 
pool to  Smyrna,  where  Beg  established  himself  as  a 
merchant. 

The  next  morning  Natterstrom  opened  a  new  account 
and  placed  the  money  to  the  credit  of  Ebenezer  Beck,  con- 
sidering himself  merely  as  the  agent  of  Beck.  From  that 
day  Natterstrom  kept  Beck's  concerns  and  his  own  entirely 
distinct ;  and  from  that  day  Natterstrom  was  esteemed  the 
most  fortunate  man  in  the  world,  although  Natterstrom  pro- 
nounced himself  the  most  unfortunate.  The  money  of  Beg 
all  prospered.  It  was  like  a  snow-ball  in  a  damp  day  roll- 
ing down  the  White  Mountains.  It  doubled  and  trebled 
itself  like  an  assemblage  of  clouds  driven  by  contrary 
winds,  while  Nattcrstrom's  own  property  was  dissipated 
like  a  mist  in  summer.  He  seldom  saw  his  own  money  but 
once  ;  the  winds,  the  waves,  and  the  rocks  in  the  sea,  all 
conspired  against  Natterstrom.  The  same  tempest  which 
wrecked  Nattcrstrom's  ship  on  the  rock  Rodondo,  drove 
Beg's  into  a  famished  port  in  the  West  Indies,  where  they 
weighed  silver  against  flour.     The  commissions  on  Beg's 


THE   LATE  JOSEPH  XATTERSTROM.  51 

adventure  retrieved  Xatterstrom's  late  loss  and  gave  him 
the  command  of  a  great  sum  as  the  agent  of  Beg. 

Natterstrom  was  among  the  first  to  embark  in  trade  to 
the  Levant.  The  situation  of  the  commercial  world  was 
most  inviting  to  the  commerce  of  the  United  States.  All 
the  world  was  a  new  milch  cow  to  the  merchant.  While 
all  Europe  was  fighting  for  this  cow,  and  one  nation  was 
seizing  her  by  the  horns,  another  by  the  tail,  a  third  by 
her  fore-leg,  and  a  fourth  by  her  hind-leg,  the  merchant 
of  the  United  States  was  sitting  beside  her,  milking  as 
quietly  as  a  milkmaid.  Xatterstrom  freighted  two  ships, 
one  on  his  own,  the  other  on  Beck's  account,  and  sent 
them  to  Smyrna.  Captain  Dixon  commanded  Beck's  and 
Captain  Hathaway,  Xatterstrom's  ship.  On  their  arrival 
in  the  roadstead  of  Smyrna,  they  hoisted  the  flag  of  the 
United  States,  which  excited  no  little  curiosity  on  shore, 
for  very  few  of  the  Smyrniots  had  ever  seen  our  national 
colors.  It  soon  came  to  Beg's  ears  that  two  ships  from 
the  New  World,  heavily  laden,  were  at  anchor  in  the  offing. 
He  was  immediately  on  board  the  nearest,  which  proved 
to  be  Captain  Hathaway's  ;  and  learning  they  were  both 
from  New  York,  he  was  greatly  delighted.  Beg  was  in- 
vited into  the  cabin,  and,  at  his  request,  was  shown  an 
invoice  of  the  cargo.  When  he  had  read  it,  he  cast  it  on 
the  table,  and  said,  "  I  pity  the  owner ;  every  article  is  a 
drug  here,  and  would  better  suit  the  Xew  York  market." 
"  That  is  Xatterstrom's  ill-luck,"  said  Captain  Hathaway  : 
"  if  he  had  shipped  gold,  it  would  have  transmuted  itself 
into  brass ;  if  he  held  in  his  hands  the  rain  of  heaven,  it 
would  descend  in  mildew.  Whatever  he  touches  with  his 
own  hand,  he  poisons ;  but  whatever  he  touches  with 
Beck's  hand,  he  converts  to  gold.  I  dare  say  Beck's  cargo 
will  turn  to  good  account."  "  Xatterstrom,"  said  Beg, 
"  Xatterstrom,  what   Xatterstrom  ?    I  was   once   in   Xew 


52  THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTROM. 

York,  and  knew  a  Mr.  Natterstrom ;  they  called  him 
'  honest  Joe  Natterstrom.' "  "  The  same,  the  same,"  said 
Captain  Hathaway  ;  "  who  could  have  imagined  that  Joe 
Natterstrom  was  known  to  a  merchant  of  Smyrna !  He  is 
the  owner  of  this  unhappy  cargo,  which  is  his  whole  prop- 
erty." "  And  whose  is  the  other  ship  and  cargo  ? "  said 
Beg.  "  That,"  said  Captain  Hathaway,  "  is  more  than  any 
living  man  knows.  Natterstrom  himself  is  ignorant  of  the 
owner.  He  says  he  is  the  agent  of  one  Ebenezcr  Beck, 
and  as  no  one  doubts  what  Natterstrom  says,  the  property 
is  all  taxed  to  Ebenezcr  Beck.  This  Beck  owns  a  large 
real  and  personal  estate,  particularly  a  valuable  wharf,  in 
New  York ;  and  as  nobody  knows  who  Beck  is,  and  as 
the  estate  has  thus  strangely  slipped  away  from  the  lawful 
owner,  the  public  have  called  it  Bcckman's  Slip.  Heaven 
grant  that  this  same  Beck  do  not  ultimately  prove  the 
ruin  of  poor  Natterstrom."  "It. may  be  so,"  said  Beg; 
"  a  man  may  be  wise  for  another,  and  a  fool  for  himself. 
Let  us  now  go  on  board  Beck's  ship,  and  examine  his 
cargo."  "  That  is  needless,"  said  Captain  Hathaway ; 
"  here  is  an  invoice  of  Beck's  cargo."  Beg  examined  it, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Admirable  !  It  is  worth  half  Smyrna. 
This  Beck  is  a  lucky  fellow  ;  he  was  born  under  the  sun  ; 
his  lamp  will  never  go  out.  He  must  be  a  favorite  of  the 
Prophet,  and  was  nursed  under  a  tree  that  sheds  its  fruit, 
■when  ripe,  into  his  lap."  Beg  then  went  on  board  of  the 
other  ship,  and  to  his  surprise  and  great  joy,  beheld  his 
old  friend  Captain  Dixon.  After  an  oriental  salutation, 
Beg  mentioned  his  interview  with  Captain  Hathaway,  and 
lamented  the  unhappy  voyage  of  Natterstrom.  "  And 
who,"  said  Beg,  "  may  be  the  fortunate  owner  of  your 
cargo?"  "That,"  said  Captain  Dixon,  "is  a  mystery, 
deep  as  the  hidden  springs  of  your  deserts.  If  honest  Joe 
Natterstrom  speaks  truth,  the  fountain  is  still  sealed.     He 


THE   LATE  JOSEPH  XATTERSTROM.  53 

is  an  agent  of  an  unknown  being.  Natterstrom,  though 
he  is  obliged  to  live  and  appear  like  a  pacha,  asserts 
that  he  is  a  poor  man,  only  the  agent  of  Beck,  and  de- 
pendent on  his  commissions.  He  affirms  that  all  the 
property  in  his  hands  is  one  Eben  Beck's ;  and  when  ques- 
tioned who  Beck  may  be,  he  says  he  does  n't  know,  he  never 
saw  him  but  once,  then  in  the  twilight,  and  that,  several 
years  since."  "  But,"  said  Beg,  "  is  there  any  doubt  that 
Natterstrom  would  surrender  this  property  to  the  man 
Beck,  if  he  should  go  and  demand  it  ? "  "  That,  indeed, 
remains  to  be  proved,"  said  Captain  Dixon,  "  and  will  for- 
ever remain  a  doubt ;  for  there  is  no  probability  that  Beck 
will  ever  appear.  Many  believe  that  Natterstrom,  from 
some  strange  whim  or  dubious  motive,  has  fabricated  the 
whole  story  of  this  Eben  Beck."  "  It  may,  nevertheless,  all 
be  true,"  said  Beg ;  "  and  Natterstrom  may  be  the  honest 
agent  of  Eben  Beck.  He  is  no  friend  to  virtue  who  doubts 
its  existence.  The  case  may  be  as  Natterstrom  affirms; 
therefore  it 's  wrong  to  prejudge.  To  attribute  a  bad  motive 
to  a  good  action  is  to  sow  tares  among  wheat.  Is  it  so 
very  extraordinary  that  a  man  should  be  honest  ?  Our 
Prophet  could  summon  thousands  of  the  faithful,  whose 
least  merit  would  be  their  integrity.  To  return  a  pledge, 
to  keep  sacred  a  deposit,  to  do  equity  where  the  law  would 
not  compel  you,  in  the  estimation  of  the  Prophet  are  all 
natural ;  little  better  than  instinct.  I  fear  you  wrong 
Natterstrom  in  doubting  his  integrity.  Mere  honesty  is 
only  a  silent  virtue.  Your  Prophet  and  ours  have,  each 
of  them,  many  humble  followers,  who  are  like  the  potato 
of  your  country,  which  never  raises  its  head  above  the 
surface.  Yet  the  potato  is  worth  the  whole  tribe  of  flowers 
that  sport  in  the  breeze.  The  English,  who  trade  to  the 
Red  Sea,  trust1  whole  cargoes  to  our  people,  who  carry 
them  to   the   heart   of  Asia ;    and   all  the   security  they 


54  THE   LATE  JOSEPH   NATTERSTROM. 

demand  is  a  token,  a  crook  of  a  Mussulman's  finger.  If 
Natterstrom  has  proclaimed  himself  the  steward  of  an- 
other man,  has  he  not  pledged  himself  to  a  surrender  when 
that  man  appears  and  reclaims  his  own  ? " 

"  I  wish  Eben  Beck  was  in  the  Red  Sea,"  said  Captain 
Dixon  ;  "  for  it  is  evident,  whether  a  real  being  or  a  phan- 
tom, he  is  the  evil  genius  of  honest  Joe  Natterstrom." 

"  But  now  to  business,"  said  Beg.  "  Give  me  the  re- 
fusal of  your  cargo,  and  I  will  freight  both  vessels  back 
with  such  products  as  you  may  order." 

This  accomplished,  both  ships  returned  to  New  York, 
heavily  laden  with  the  richest  products  of  the  East. 

When  it  appeared  to  Natterstrom  that  Beck's  ship  had 
made  a  prosperous  voyage,  and  that  his  own  enterprise 
had  failed,  Natterstrom  was  disheartened  ;  all  his  thoughts 
turned,  inwardly,  to  one  dark  idea.  Strange  things  passed 
in  his  mind.  He  remembered  the  pale  look  of  the  person, 
the  feeble  arm  and  trembling  hand,  that  reached  to  him 
the  bag  of  gold.  The  apparent  old  age  and  the  decrepitude 
of  the  man  now  fixed  his  attention  more  strangely  than 
in  the  moment  of  reality.  The  man  of  179-4  seemed  to 
reappear  to  Natterstrom  in  full  life  ;  and  an  impression 
that  he  might  be  the  passive  agent  of  an  unholy  princi- 
pal overpowered  him.  He  began  to  hate  his  own  name, 
without  being  reconciled  to  that  of  Beck.  However,  the 
course  of  events  and  the  facility  of  business  all  tended  to 
sink  the  name  of  Natterstrom  into  that  of  Beck ;  so  that 
Natterstrom  was  frequently  addressed  as  Ebenezer  Beck 
by  foreign  merchants,  who  really  supposed  they  were 
merchandising  with  Beck  himself.  Indeed,  he  began  to 
be  called  in  New  York,  Ebenezer  Beck  ;  so  that  at  length 
he  willingly  assumed  the  name.  He  therefore  relinquished 
all  business  in  the  name  of  Natterstrom,  took  down  his 
sign  on  his  warehouse,  and  substituted  in  place   thereof 


THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTROM.  55 

that  of  Ebenezer  Beck.  Thus,  honest  Joe  Natterstrom 
sank  into  Ebcnczer  Beck ;  and  many  of  the  present  gen- 
eration, who  suppose  they  have  seen  Ebcnczer  Beck  a 
thousand  times,  never  heard  of  the  name  of  Joseph  Nat- 
terstrom. So  hasty  is  time  to  bury  the  past ;  so  closely 
does  oblivion  press  on  the  footsteps  of  time. 

Under  the  name  of  Ebenezer  Beck,  Natterstrom  long 
flourished,  one  of  the  most  eminent  merchants  of  New 
York.  Although  he  employed  thousands  of  men,  and 
came  in  contact  with  the  whole  mass  of  civil  society, 
no  man  was  ever  heard  to  complain  of  him ;  he  was 
the  counterpart  of  the  late  Mr.  Gray  of  Boston. 

After  many  successful  voyages  to  Smyrna,  Beck  ex- 
claimed one  day  in  the  hearing  of  Captain  Dixon,  "  Lord, 
remember  poor  Joseph  Natterstroni ;  but  as  for  Ebenezer 
Beck,  stay  thy  hand,  for  he  has  enough ! "  This  being 
related  to  Beg  the  last  time  Captain  Dixon  was  at  Smyrna, 
"  Enough ! "  said  Beg,  "  he  is  the  first  man  that  ever 
cried  enough ! " 

"  But,"  said  Captain  Dixon,  "  if  the  wealth  is  not  his 
own,  but  one  Ebenezer  Beck's,  he  exclaimed  '  Enough '  for 
another  man,  not  for  himself." 

"  True,"  said  Beg,  "  it  is  so  ;  yet  it  seems  to  confirm  his 
integrity,  if  he  did  not  apply  the  expression  to  himself." 

Beg  now  thought  it  time  to  sec  Natterstrom,  and  he 
prepared  to  visit  the  United  States.  Accordingly,  he  em- 
barked a  second  time  with  Captain  Dixon  for  New  York. 
On  his  arrival,  he  pondered  a  long  time  how  he  should 
make  himself  known  to  Natterstrom.  At  length,  he  re- 
solved to  appear  before  him  in  the  same  disguise  in  which 
he  appeared  at  his  counting-room  in  1794,  thirty  years 
before.  He  now  prepared  himself  for  a  meeting ;  and 
having  ascertained  that  Natterstrom  and  his  family  were 
going  to  a  country-seat   at  Flushing,  he  placed  himself 


56  THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTROM. 

in  the  way,  and  sat  down  near  the  middle  of  the  road, 
near  the  Dutch  church.  With  one  hand  he  supported 
himself  with  a  staff;  and  the  other  was  half  extended, 
as  if  in  dubious  expectation  of  charity.  When  the  horses 
of  Natterstrom's  carriage  approached  Beg,  they  suddenly 
stopped  and  trembled,  as  if  spell-bound.  The  coachman 
turned  to  Natterstrom  and  said,  "  Here,  sir,  is  a  miser- 
able object,  so  (inhuman  that  the  horses  tremble  at  sight 
of  him." 

"  Eternal  God  !  "  said  Xatterstrom,  "  that  is  Eben  Beck  ! 
The  day  of  doubt  is  passed,  and  if  that  is  a  human 
being,  I  am  happy  ;  otherwise,  I  have  been  thirty  years 
under  enchantment."  In  an  instant,  Natterstrom  leaped 
from  the  carriage  and  approached  Beg.  "  Thou  art  Eben 
Beck,"  said  Natterstrom.  "  Dost  thou  appear  to  me  a 
miserable  beggar,  or  a  mysterious  being,  unallied  to  this 
world,  and  all  its  concerns  ?  Speak,  for  I  am  Joseph  Nat- 
terstrom, and  have  'occupied'  till  Eben  Beck  has  come." 

"  How  hast  thou  '  occupied '  ? "  said  Beg,  austerely. 

"I  have  'occupied,'"  said  Natterstrom,  "until  thy  five 
hundred  guineas  have  become  more  than  five  hundred 
thousand.  Arise,  and  take  a  seat  in  this,  thy  carriage, 
for  it  is  thine,  —  see  thy  name  on  the  panel,  —  and  let  me 
accompany  thee  to  thy  beautiful  mansion  at  Becksville." 

Beg  ascended  the  carriage,  seated  himself,  sat  calmly, 
and  said  nothing.  Natterstrom,  though  full,  even  to 
anguish,  was  silence-struck  at  this  strange  occurrence ; 
and  thus  all  was  quiet  until  they  arrived  at  Beck's 
country-scat.  Natterstrom  now  proposed  a  change  of 
raiment,  which  Beg  declined,  observing  he  was  too  old 
to  change  his  habits ;  he  had  come  a  long  distance  to 
settle  his  affairs,  and  was  desirous  of  returning  home 
to  his  own  country.  "  When  canst  thou  settle  with  me  ?  " 
asked  Beg. 


THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTROM.  57 

"  To-day,"  replied  Xatterstrom. 

"  But  how  canst  thou  settle  the  concerns  of  thirty 
years  in  one  day  !  " 

"  I  have  only,"  said  Xatterstrom,  "  to  hand  thee  a 
bundle  of  papers,  and  the  business  is  done." 

"  Explain  thyself,  Mr.  Xatterstrom,  for  I  am  an  ignorant 
man." 

"  All  thy  property  is  in  thy  own  name  ;  thy  real  estate 
is  registered,  thy  ships  are  registered,  thy  notes  of  hand, 
thy  bonds  and  mortgages,  are  all  payable  to  thyself ;  thy 
hank  stock  is  all  certified  to  Eben  Beck ;  and  all  thy 
other  personal  property  is  in  thy  day-book  and  ledger. 
Otherwise,  how  could  Eben  Beck  receive  his  own,  if  Joseph 
Xatterstrom  had  died  before  Eben  Beck  came  back  ?  " 

"  But  how  canst  thou  distinguish  hetween  thy  own 
and  my  own  ?  Joseph  Xatterstrom  has  not  hecome  poor 
while  Eben  Beck  has  become  rich  ? " 

"  Joseph  Xatterstrom  has  become  poor,  and  has  lived 
many  years  under  the  shadow  of  Eben  Beck,  and  has 
rejoiced  in  the  sunshine  of  his  prosperity ;  for  to  rejoice 
in  the  prosperity  of  another  is  to  partake  of  it.  But 
now,  all  is  Eben  Beck's  ;  if  Joseph  Xatterstrom  retains 
anything,  he  wrongs  Eben  Beck." 

"  And  art  thou  ready  to  resign  all  ? " 

"  All." 

"  And  what  wilt  thou  have  left  ? " 

'•  Myself." 

"  True,"  said  Beg,  "  Joseph  Xatterstrom  will  remain, 
and  a  man's  best  wealth  ought  to  be  himself." 

The  next  day,  Xatterstrom  resigned  all,  and  Beg  took 
all.  In  one  day,  everything  was  settled.  From  great 
splendor  and  apparent  opulence,  Joseph  Xatterstrom  was 
reduced  to  nothing.  From  that  day  Beg  never  saw  Xat- 
terstrom, though   he    remained   in   Xew  York    about   six 


58  THE  LATE  JOSEPH  NATTERSTROM. 

months.  lie  continued  his  disguise,  lived  meanly,  and 
encouraged  the  opinion  that  he  was  a  mysterious  miser. 
The  experiment  on  Natterstrom  having  succeeded  to  Beg's 
satisfaction,  he  was  now  desirous  of  returning  home  to 
Smyrna ;  but  first  he  executed  his  Will,  which  for  brevity 
was  remarkable.  Thus  :  "  There  is  but  one  God,  and 
Mahomet  is  his  Prophet.  I,  Ebn  Beg,  of  Smyrna,  known 
in  the  city  of  New  York  as  Eben  Beck,  being  of  sound 
and  disposing  mind  and  memory,  do  make  this  my  last 
will  and  testament.  First,  I  devise  to  Joseph  Natterstrom, 
my  late  agent,  and  to  his  heirs  and  assigns,  all  my  real 
estate  in  the  United  States.  Secondly,  I  give  and  be- 
queath to  said'  Natterstrom,  all  my  personal  property, 
both  in  Europe  and  in  the  United  States."  This  will, 
correctly  executed,  Beg  deposited  with  Captain  Dixon, 
who  now  for  the  first  time  was  made  acquainted  with 
the  long-sleeping  secret.  By  the  aid  of  Captain  Dixon, 
Beg  now  appeared  to  sicken,  languish,  and  die.  His 
funeral  was  performed,  and  his  decease  was  publicly  no- 
ticed, very  little  to  his  credit.  The  good-natured  Beg 
smiled  at  this,  and  soon  after  sailed  for  Smyrna. 

Captain  Dixon  now  presented  the  will  to  Natterstrom  ; 
he  read  it,  and  for  a  moment  his  well-balanced  mind 
began  to  totter.  He  was  now  deeply  impressed,  that  for 
thirty  years  he  had  been  under  a  supernatural  influence, 
but  as  it  appeared  to  him  to  be  that  kind  of  influence 
which  one  good  spirit  might  have  over  another,  he  re- 
tained the  name  of  Eben  Beck  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
as  well  from  pleasant  associations  as  from  public  sanction  ; 
but  his  real  name  was  Joseph  Natterstrom,  as  is  well 
known  to  many  aged  people  now  living  in  New  York. 


MARTHA    GARDNER; 

OK,   MORAL    REACTION. 


MARTHA    GARDNER; 
OR,   MORAL    REACTION. 


SIR  FRANCIS  WILLOUGHBY  attempted  the  first  set- 
tlement in  Charlcstown  on  the  land  adjoining  the  old 
ferry.  Afterward  Martha  Gardner  became  heir  to  a  part 
of  the  same  estate.  What  inhabitant  of  that  region,  who 
has  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  cannot  remember  Martha 
Gardner  ?  What  man  or  woman  of  sixty  has  not  bought 
sweetmeats,  nuts,  and  apples  at  the  shop  of  Martha  Gard- 
ner at  her  little  mansion  measuring  ten  feet  by  twelve, 
which  during  her  life  was  a  frontier  cottage  between 
Boston  and  Charlestown,  on  the  Charlestown  shore  near 
the  old  ferry-way  ?  Those  who  remember  Martha,  and 
recollect  how  silent,  modest,  industrious,  and  unassuming 
she  was,  will  think  it  impossible  that  anything  interesting 
can  grow  out  of  her  history  ;  yet  one  incident  in  her  long 
life  merits  solemn  reflection.  It  may  appear  to  many  an 
idle  legend,  yet  it  is  not  so ;  for  the  footsteps  of  time 
have  already  left  an  indelible  track,  and  Martha  Gardner, 
although  long  since  in  her  grave,  still  speaks  trumpet- 
tongued  from  her  venerable  ashes. 

Previous  to  the  American  Revolution  Martha  Gardner 
lived  in  Charlestown.  Her  family  name  was  Bunker, 
whence  came  the  name  Bunker  Hill.  On  the  seventeenth 
day  of  June  she  saw  her  little  mansion  given  to  the  flames, 
and  herself  houseless,   destitute,  and   an  exile  from  her 


62  MARTHA  GARDNER; 

Eden.  After  the  war  she  returned  and  erected  her  small 
cottage  on  the  border  of  the  beautiful  river  ;  and  there  she 
lived,  and  there  in  1809  she  died. 

In  1785  Charles  River  Bridge,  the  greatest  enterprise  of 
that  day,  was  erected  near  the  door  of  Martha  Gardner,  on 
the  Charlestown  shore.  The  wealthy  proprietors  soon  be- 
gan to  fancy  that  a  valuable  part  of  the  estate  of  Martha 
Gardner  was  their  corporate  property ;  and  Martha  was 
compelled  cither  to  resign  her  title,  or  engage  in  a  lawsuit 
with  the  richest  corporation  in  New  England.  Her  dis- 
tress may  be  imagined,  —  a  poor  widow,  recently  flying 
from  the  flames  of  her  dwelling,  hardly  reinstated  in  the 
common  comforts  of  life,  already  bending  with  age,  and 
now  forced  to  contend  with  powerful  claimants  for  a  part 
of  the  small  estate  of  which,  unluckily,  all  the  deeds  and 
documents  were  (as  she  supposed)  burned  during  the  gen- 
eral conflagration  of  Charlestown. 

A  lawsuit  has  different  aspects  to  different  persons.  To 
some  a  lawsuit  is  a  holiday ;  to  others  it  gives  the  heart- 
ache. To  some  the  agitation  of  a  lawsuit  is  but  the  lullaby 
of  a  sea  breeze ;  so  the  French  officer  thought,  who,  dur- 
ing a  tedious  peace,  contrived  to  be  involved  in  a  hundred 
lawsuits.  When  he  was  summoned  before  Louis  XV.  as 
a  public  nuisance,  the  king  ordered  him  to  drop  them  all ; 
but  he,  falling  on  his  knees,  entreated  that  he  might  retain 
half  a  dozen  of  them  for  his  diversion,  otherwise  he  should 
die  with  languor  during  the  long  peace.  Not  so  Lord 
Chancellor  Eldon.  When  his  steward  complained  to  him 
of  a  trespasser,  he  asked  if  the  man  had  stolen  an  acre 
of  land.  "  Why,  no,  sir."  "  Then  wait  till  he  does."  Nor 
did  Erskine  see  any  amusement  in  a  lawsuit.  Ellenbor- 
ough  once  suggested  to  him  that  his  client  could  have  a 
better  remedy  in  the  Court  of  Chancery.  At  the  name  of 
the  Court  of  Chancery,  Erskine,  wiping  away  a  tear,  and 


OK,  MORAL  REACTION.  63 

looking  the  Chief-Justice  in  the  face,  said,  in  a  supplicat- 
ing tone  :  "  Has  your  Lordship  the  heart  to  send  a  fellow- 
being  to  the  Court  of  Chancery  ? " 

But  let  us  pause  a  moment  to  contemplate  Martha  Gard- 
ner. How  much  do  these  two  words  "  Martha  Gardner  " 
comprise !  More  than  the  whole  Trojan  war !  Homer 
could  have  turned  Martha  Gardner  into  an  epic  poem,  for 
she  and  moral  reaction  are  one.  Moral  reaction,  —  what  a 
subject  for  contemplation  !  The  anger  of  Achilles,  the 
wanderings  of  that  cunning  itinerant  Ulysses,  the  flight 
from  Troy,  our  lagging  sympathy  with  JCneas,  and  the 
fertile  squabble  of  the  Crusaders  and  the  Turks  for  a 
few  square  feet  of  earth,  are  mere  incidents  compared 
with  the  eternal  decrees  of  moral  reaction.  Coleridge  and 
Kant,  transcendental  philosophers  !  —  ye  could  discourse 
sublimely  on  moral  reaction  forever  and  ever ;  for  every 
action,  past,  present,  or  future,  would  afford  food  to  your 
telescopic  minds.  Every  intelligent  being  and  nation,  as 
well  as  individual,  is  at  this  moment  suffering  under  moral 
reaction.  The  earthquake  is  but  a  momentary  shock,  the 
thunder  dies  in  its  birth,  the  volcano  is  but  a  palpitation  ; 
but  moral  reaction  though  silent,  unseen,  and  unheard,  is 
the  most  busy  agent  in  the  universe.  While  it  requires 
ages  for  the  ocean  to  effect  a  little  inroad  on  the  sea-beach. 
moral  reaction  at  one  time  overwhelms  individuals  and 
nations  at  a  blow,  at  another  it  leads  them  through  a  laby- 
rinth to  slow  but  sure  destruction,  —  a  giant,  but  without 
the  arms  of  a  giant ;  Time  with  his  scythe,  but  you  see  not 
the  scythe.  The  prophetic  imprecation  of  Martha  Gardner 
which  we  are  about  to  relate,  was  but  a  woman's  voice 
sighing  in  the  tempest  and  dying  away  among  the  billows  ; 
but  it  was  a  voice  charged  with  an  awful  decree. 

The  story  of  Martha  Gardner,  although  having  its  scene 
under  our  own  eyes,  and  the  principal  fact  a  matter  of  pub- 


G4  MARTHA  GARDNER; 

lie  record,  is  so  much  like  a  legendary  tale  that  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  treat  the  subject  without  a  tinge  of  the  marvellous. 

Soon  after  the  great  Corporation  of  Charles  River  Bridge 
began  the  conflict  with  Martha  Gardner  for  a  part  of 
her  little  patrimony,  —  the  dock  adjoining  the  bridge, — 
Martha  one  morning  sat  in  her  chair,  her  hands  folded, 
looking  more  like  a  figure  of  stone  than  a  living  being, 
when  in  came  David  Wood  (the  late  Colonel  Wood),  one 
of  those  rare  men,  whom  as  soon  as  the  eyes  saw,  the  lips 
whispered,  "  There  goes  a  man."  His  noble  heart  you 
might  read  in  his  face  and  see  in  his  hand  ;  in  his  deal- 
ings he  was  so  just  that  his  word  was  as  good  as  a  promis- 
sory note,  and  passed  like  a  bill  of  exchange  from  man 
to  man.  His  looks  created  immediate  confidence  ;  a  lost 
clog  might  always  be  found  at  David  Wood's  door-step. 
Indeed,  this  man  seemed  to  live  exempt  from  the  general 
penalty,  and  never  appeared  to  realize  that  all  others  were 
not  like  himself. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Martha ;  what 's  the  matter  ?  You 
look  worse  than  you  did  when  you  fled  from  the  '  seven- 
teenth of  June.'  "  Martha  at  first  made  no  reply,  for  she 
did  not  see  him.  "  Are  you  in  a  trance,  Martha  ?  Wake 
up,  and  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is." 

Martha  seemed  to  awake  from  a  deep  revery,  and  re- 
plied, "  Ah,  Mr.  Wood,  the  burning  of  Charlestown,  with 
my  little  all,  was  but  a  momentary  conflict, —  it  was  but  a 
dream  of  the  night.  What  comes  without  anticipation,  and 
ends  in  a  moment,  passes  over  us  like  a  dream.  That 
morning  found  me  happy,  and  the  next  morning  found  me 
so.  The  seventeenth  had  passed  over  me  forever,  and  the 
morning  of  the  eighteenth  gave  me  new  joy.  Why  could 
they  not  wait  a  little  longer,  and  I  should  have  been  at 
rest  ?  But  now  I  see  no  end  to  my  sorrows.  When  I  lay 
my  head  on  my  pillow,  the  Corporation  appears  to  me  in 


OR,   MORAL  REACTION*.  65 

all  its  terrors  ;  when  I  sleep  —  no,  I  do  not  sleep  —  when 
I  dream,  I  dream  of  the  Corporation ;  and  when  I  wake. 
there  stands  the  great  Corporation  of  Charles  River  Bridge 
against  Martha  Gardner,  —  they,  seemingly  almighty,  and 
I,  nothing.     Why  did  yon  waken  me  ?  " 

"  Cheer  up,  Martha,"  said  the  benevolent  Mr.  Wood, 
"  your  happy  star  shall  yet  prevail.  Why,  have  you  for- 
gotten your  old  wooden  post  with  Ebenezer  Mansir's  name 
carved  on  it,  —  the  old  wooden  post  which  the  selectmen  of 
Charlestown,  in  their  wrath,  ordered  to  be  cut  away,  and 
which,  after  traversing  the  whole  world  of  waters,  floated 
back  after  two  years  to  your  own  door,  and  was  replaced 
in  its  own  post-hole  ?  Arise,  look  out  of  your  window  and 
see  the  old  wooden  pier,  and  then  doubt,  if  you  can,  of 
eternal  justice.  Ebenezer  —  look  at  it;  it  means, '  Praise 
the  Lord ! '  " 

••  All,"  said  Martha,  "  the  day  of  miracles  is  not  yet 
passed.  That  old  wooden  pier  has  given  birth  to  strange 
reflections,  its  return  seemed  to  connect  heaven  and  earth  ; 
it  seemed  like  the  return  of  a  wandering  spirit,  cast  out  of 
its  native  element,  to  its  first  happy  state." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Wood ;  "  think  of  that  post  with  the 
name  carved  on  it  to  identify  it,  floating  on  the  mighty 
waters,  —  now  in  the  Gulf  Stream,  now  driven  up  the 
Baltic,  then  by  a  north  wind  sent  to  the  Equator  and 
Pacific,  and  thence  back  to  the  Atlantic,  —  and  alter  such 
a  voyage  of  adventure,  arriving  at  Charlestown  in  its 
own  dock  again ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Martha,  "  I  have  heard  it  observed  that 
many  ages  past  a  man  by  the  name  of  Plato,  being  in 
the  dark,  guessed  a  great  deal  about  the  immortality  of 
the  soul.  I  have  often  imagined  that  the  return  of  the 
wooden  post  was  like  a  lust  angel  to  his  native  home  ;  and 
if  that  old  post,  subject  two  years  to  the  winds  of  heaven 

5 


66  MARTHA   GARDNER; 

and  waves  of  the  sea,  tossed  upon  all  the  coasts,  inlets, 
bays,  creeks,  and  nooks  of  the  four  quarters  of  the  world, 
came  home  at  last,  a  wandering  spirit  might  one  day  reach 
its  native  home !" 

The  wooden  pier  just  mentioned  was  well  calculated  to 
bewilder  the  least  superstitious  mind.  The  simple  facts 
were  these :  Soon  after  the  erection  of  Charles  River 
Bridge,  the  selectmen  of  Charlestown  believed  a  portion  of 
Martha  Gardner's  estate  was  the  town  dock,  and  they 
ordered  a  favorite  wooden  post  standing  at  the  dock  to  be 
cut  away.  The  post  stood  under  her  chamber  window,  and 
from  her  youth  upward  she  was  attached  to  that  post  as 
much  as  Pope  was  attached  to  the  classic  post  before  his 
door.  Ebenezer  Mansir  tied  his  fishing-boat  to  that  post, 
and  Martha  when  a  child  played  in  the  boat ;  and  when  it 
floated  on  an  ebb-tide  down  the  dock  the  length  of  its 
tether,  she  pulled  herself  up  the  dock  by  the  help  of  the 
rope.     That  was  a  pure  pleasure  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Martha  remonstrated  against  the  wrong  done  her,  with 
all  a  woman's  eloquence,  but  in  vain ;  and  as  the  post  was 
floating  out  into  Charles  River,  a  by-stander  said,  "  Farewell 
to  your  old  post,  Mrs.  Gardner,  you  will  never  see  it  again." 
She  instantly  replied,  "  "Who  knows  but  that  post  may  one 
day  come  back  again,  to  convince  the  selectmen  of  my 
right  and  their  wrong  ? "  Nothing  more  was  thought  of 
this  until  two  years  after,  when  the  old  post,  covered  with 
caraghcen-moss  and  barnacles,  came  floating  up  the  dock  at 
midday,  shining  like  an  emerald  ;  and  as  the  tide  receded, 
deposited  itself  beside  its  old  situation.  This  incident  is 
now  in  the  family  records. 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  "  when  will  the  trial  begin  ?  " 

"  Next  week,"  said  Martha  ;  "  and  my  heart  fails  within 
me,  for  I  have  nothing  to  show ;  all  my  deeds  were  de- 
stroyed on  the  seventeenth  of  June." 


OR,  MORAL  REACTION.  67 

"  Ah,  Martha,  you  seem  now  like  a  lamb  shorn  in  winter; 
but  I  have  a  presentiment  that  there  is  an  angel  behind  the 
curtain.  When  human  help  fails  us,  an  armed  giant  some- 
times appears  in  our  defence.  A  benighted  traveller  has 
often  been  shown  his  true  path  by  a  flash  of  lightning. 
You  may  yet  awake  out  of  a  dream." 

Early  the  next  morning  Mr.  Wood  received  a  message. 
His  mansion  stood  half  a  mile  from  Martha  Gardner's 
cottage,  where  the  brick  church  now  stands  at  the  corner 
of  Wood  and  Green  Streets.  On  entering  Martha's  cot- 
tage, lie  found  her  greatly  agitated.  Said  Martha,  "  Your 
angel  behind  the  curtain  made  his  appearance  last  night. 
He  knocked  at  my  door  once ;  I  was  afraid.  He  knocked 
at  my  door  again  ;  I  was  afraid  and  said  nothing.  He 
knocked  at  my  door  the  third  time,  and  said,  '  Awake, 
Martha,  awake,  and  fear  no  harm!'  I  took  courage  and 
replied.  'I  am  awake,  but  am  overcome  with  fear;  for  I 
am  alone,  and  there  is  none  to  help  me.'  '  Fear  nothing, 
Martha,  I  am  here  to  help  you.  Listen.  In  the  house  of 
your  son-in-law,  in  an  old  trunk  at  the  bottom  of  the  old 
trunk  in  the  garret,  behind  the  chimney,  there  all  your 
deeds  and  records  are  preserved.' " 

Search  was  immediately  made,  and  in  an  old  trunk  at 
the  bottom  of  the  old  trunk  in  the  garret,  behind  the 
chimney.  Sir  Francis  Willoughby's  original  deed  to  Martha 
Gardner's  ancestor  was  quietly  reposing  in  perfect  pres- 
ervation. This  was  handed  to  the  late  Governor  Sullivan, 
then  attorney-general,  the  faithful  counsellor  of  the  lone 
widow.  She  prevailed  in  the  Supreme  Court,  and  was 
quieted  in  her  rights. 

This  incident  of "  the  angel  behind  the  curtain,"  deserves 
a  passing  remark.  There  was  nothing  strange  in  Martha 
Gardner's  dreaming  every  night  of  her  lawsuit,  of  the 
great  Corporation,  and  of  her  lost  deeds  ;   neither  is  it 


G8  MARTHA  GARDNER; 

strange  that  she  should  dream  of  finding  them.  And  if  we 
connect  the  sanguine  expressions  of  her  friend  Wood  with 
her  own  earnest  wishes,  we  have  the  key  to  her  dream. 
There  is  no  probability  that  she  heard  a  knocking  at 
her  chamber  door,  either  once,  twice,  or  thrice  ;  but  she 
dreamed  she  did  so,  and  in  the  morning  she  doubtless 
thought  it  was  more  than  a  dream.  She  had  probably 
seen  that  old  trunk  many  times,  little  imagining  the  jewel 
it  contained.  There  is  really  nothing  marvellous  in  this 
dream,  and  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be  so  considered  ;  for  though 
it  was  far  more  important  to  her  than  the  return  of  the 
old  wooden  post,  yet  this  dream  is  not  worthy  of  a  passing 
notice  compared  with  the  adventures  of  that  almost  in- 
tellectual wooden  post. 

But  Martha  Gardner  was  not  destined  to  a  long  repose. 
One  pleasant  morning  soon  after,  looking  out  of  her  win- 
dow, she  observed  the  sea-gulls  sporting  themselves  above 
the  bridge.  "  This  is  a  deceitful  calm,"  said  Martha. 
"  These  sea-gulls  so  near  my  door  denote  an  approaching 
storm  ; "  and  immediately  after  the  great  Corporation 
appeared  to  Martha  in  the  shape  of  a  summons,  com- 
manding her  to  appear  at  court  and  submit  to  a  new  trial 
in  the  form  of  a  review.  Said  Martha,  "  How  cruel !  This 
may  be  sport  to  them,  but  it  is  death  to  me.  I  have  but 
a  short  lease  of  all  worldly  things  ;  my  setting  sun  shows 
only  a  crescent,  it  will  be  down  in  a  moment.  Let  the 
great  Corporation  take  my  estate.  I  will  contend  no 
longer.  If  they  have  resolved  to  contend  again,  let  them 
take  my  estate  this  moment  rather  than  that  I  should  close 
my  few  remaining  days  in  anxiety  and  distress.  I  have 
already  been  overwhelmed  in  the  waters  of  bitterness. 
Truly  my  name  is  Martha."  "  Not  so,"  said  her  friends. 
"  Remember  the  wooden  post  with  Ebenczer  Mansir's  name 
carved  on  it.     Remember  the  '  ancrel  behind  the  curtain,' 


OR,   MORAL  REACTION.  69 

and  remember  the  old  trunk.  Do  not  let  the  great  Cor- 
poration with  their  long  arms  reach  beyond  your  simple 
rights.  The  whole  Corporation  in  the  eye  of  the  court 
weighs  no  more  than  Martha  Gardner." 

In  consequence  of  this  assurance,  Martha  maintained 
the  conflict  a  second  time  with  the  Corporation,  and  pre- 
vailed. She  now  congratulated  herself  that  she  should  die 
in  peace ;  and  she  resigned  herself  to  that  sweet  repose, 
such  as  virtuous  old  age,  when  light-hearted,  enjoys  under 
the  shadow  of  a  weight  of  years.  In  old  age  most  persons 
cling  the  closer  to  earth  the  nearer  they  approach  the 
close  of  life.  Not  so  Martha ;  her  setting  sun  seemed 
to  renew  her  youth.  She  was  as  merry  as  a  cricket  in 
autumn,  which  sings  loudest  on  the  last  day  of  sunshine. 
She  was  at  peace  with  herself,  and  therefore  with  all  the 
world.  The  swallows  observed  this,  and  built  their  nests 
over  her  window,  and  twittered  on  her  window-sill.  Her 
day  never  seemed  too  long.  She  renewed  her  girlhood 
with  the  foliage  of  spring,  while  the  wreath  of  snow  over 
the  river  on  Copp's  Hill,  reminded  her  of  a  gay  plume 
rather  than  of  her  winding-sheet.  All  her  wrinkles  fled 
before  the  sparkling  of  her  eyes.  Life  returned  to  her, 
and  in  her  old  age  she  was  still  young.  Doubtless  a 
joyous  old  age  with  a  heart  alive  to  youthful  sensations 
is  nearly  allied  to  spiritual  existence ;  in  truth,  her  mor- 
tality seemed  swallowed  up  in  life.  "  Happy  Mrs.  Gard- 
ner," said  the  neighbors  ;  "  there  is  nothing  mortal  about 
her,  she  will  never  die.  She  will  sit  upright  in  her  easy- 
chair  and  seem  to  die  ;  but  no,  Martha  has  only  been 
translated."  Hesiod  must  have  had  such  a  one  as  Martha 
Gardner  in  view  when  speaking  of  the  first  happy  ages:  — 

"  They  die,  or  rather  seem  to  die;  they  seem 
From  hence  transported  in  a  pleasing  dream." 

Indeed  Martha  Gardner  appeared  to  have  gone  to  heaven 


70  MARTHA  GARDNER; 

before  her  time,  and  to  have  enjoyed  in  this  world  an 
athanasia.  But  the  evening  breeze  which  was  so  sweetly 
wafting  her  down  the  quiet  stream  of  time  to  the  calm 
latitudes,  was  only  the  precursor  of  a  tempest  which  over- 
whelmed her  gentle  soul.  Just  before  she  took  leave  of 
this  world,  the  moment  she  was  folding  all  up  for  her  last 
journey,  just  when  with  her  own  hands,  she  had  worked 
her  last  white  dress  and  instructed  her  granddaughter  how 
to  adjust  it,  the  great  Corporation  sent  a  third  summons 
to  her,  more  appalling  than  would  have  been  her  last 
summons.  This  blow  was  too  much  for  Martha,  and  she 
became  a  weeping-willow.  Again  the  great  Corporation  op- 
pressed her  sleep ;  her  day-fears  pursued  her  to  her  couch, 
where  in  her  phantom  sleep  she  wrestled  with  the  night- 
mare in  the  shape  of  the  great  Corporation.  Trouble  in 
youth  is  like  the  morning  dew, —  the  first  gleam  of  the  sun 
dissipates  it;  but  trouble  in  old  age  weighs  heavier  and 
heavier,  and  the  heart  sinks,  and  drags  hope  downward. 

But  why  did  the  Corporation  of  Charles  River  Bridge 
thus  pursue  Martha  Gardner  ?  There  is  but  one  answer, 
—  it  was  a  Corporation. 

The  metaphysicians  distribute  man  into  three  parts,  — 
the  animal,  the  intellectual,  and  the  moral.  Which  of 
these  three  is  most  likely  to  prevail  in  a  Corporation  ?  The 
Corporation  of  Charles  River  Bridge  was  composed  of 
many  men  well  remembered  now  for  their  private  and 
public  worth.  Less  than  five  of  them  would  have  re- 
deemed Nineveh.  But  unhappily  the  animal  and  the  in- 
tellectual part  of  Corporations  generally  govern  the  body, 
and  conscience  is  a  non-corporate  word. 

While  Martha  was  preparing  for  her  last  conflict  with 
the  Corporation  a  great  storm  in  November  threatened 
wide  desolation  to  the  neighboring  shores  of  Boston  and 
Charlestown.     A  three  days'  northeast  wind,  assisted  by 


OR,  MORAL   REACTION.  71 

the  full  moon,  seemed  to  challenge  the  Gulf  Stream.  It  is 
well  known  that  a  powerful  northeast  wind  narrows  the 
Gulf  Stream,  renders  it  more  rapid,  and  drives  it  nearer 
the  coast.  The  third  day  of  this  memorable  storm  af- 
forded the  sublimest  scene  ever  beheld  in  New  England. 
It  seemed  for  a  fearful  moment  that  the  order  of  Nature 
was  broken  up,  and  that  He  who  gave  the  sea  its  bounds 
had  released  the  conditions  ;  that  the  whole  Atlantic,  in  a 
boisterous  mood,  had  forced  the  Gulf  Stream  into  Boston 
harbor.  There  was  not  a  wave  to  be  seen  ;  it  was  one 
white  surge,  —  one  white  mountain  of  foam  breaking  over 
the  tops  of  the  numerous  islands  in  the  harbor ;  while 
during  the  momentary  lulling  of  the  wind  and  subsiding 
of  the  waters,  the  surges  broke  upon  the  eye  like  so  many 
gambolling  sea-monsters,  dancing  to  the  ceaseless  roar  of 
Chelsea  and  Lynn  beaches.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
mainland  must  give  way  to  the  mighty  sea  beating  upon 
the  rock-bound  coast.  It  was  a  fearful  day  for  Charles- 
town.  The  waters  had  already  buried  the  wharves  in 
their  abyss.  Charles  River  Bridge  next  disappeared  and 
was  totally  engulfed  ;  vessels  might  have  sailed  over  it 
keel-safe.  The  flood  was  marching  up  Main  Street  to  the 
Square.  Mothers  seized  their  infants,  and  were  preparing 
to  fly  to  the  uplands.  Three  days  more  and  the  heights 
of  Boston  and  Charlestown  would  have  appeared  like 
islands  in  the  Atlantic  ocean ;  but  happily  for  Boston  and 
the  vicinity,  this  storm  occurred  in  November  and  not  in 
May,  otherwise  the  numerous  icebergs  which  annually  ap- 
pear off  the  coast  might  have  blockaded  the  harbor  be- 
tween Cape  Ann  and  Cape  Cod,  and  destroyed  Boston 
and  the  neighboring  seaports. 

In  the  last  efforts  of  the  storm  the  little  cottage  of 
Martha  Gardner  began  to  tremble.  The  surge  bore  down 
on  her  tottering  tenement,  while  the  winds  lashed  every 


72  MARTHA  GARDNER  ; 

returning  billow  into  new  fury.  The  neighbors  collected 
around  her  dwelling  and  besought  her  to  fly  from  instant 
ruin.  She.  nothing  daunted,  ascended  to  her  chamber  win- 
dow, and  opening  it,  addressed  them :  — 

"  1  will  not  fly,"  said  she.  "  Let  Lynn  beach  roar,  and 
let  the  winds  and  the  waves  rage  three  days  more.  If  my 
house  moves  it  shall  be  my  ark ;  it  shall  be  my  cradle.  I 
will  move  with  it.  I  will  neither  fly  from  the  storm  nor 
look  back,  but  will  look  up !  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  war  of  elements.  My  destruction  comes  not  in  the 
whirlwind  nor  in  the  tempest,  but  from  a  broken  heart. 
Welcome,  ye  stormy  winds  and  raging  waves  !  Ye  are 
but  ministers  of  Supreme  Power,  flying  messengers ;  and 
when  your  errand  is  done,  ye  are  as  quiet  as  a  landscape. 
When  the  storm  is  passed  all  will  smile  again.  Ye  are 
now  my  diversion  ;  ye  bring  repose  to  my  troubled  spirit ; 
ye  lull  me  to  rest.  When  ye  are  quiet,  the  great  Corpora- 
tion will  trouble  my  sleep.  All  natural  evils  are  but  play- 
things. This  tempest  shakes  my  dwelling,  but  not  my 
soul.  The  thunder  is  harmless  the  moment  it  is  heard. 
The  earthquake  brings  impartial  ruin ;  but  I,  a  poor  widow, 
am  singled  out  by  the  great  Corporation,  and  pursued  to 
my  dying  bed-chamber.  Yes,  my  soul  enjoys  this  tempest ; 
I  look  down  on  it ;  I  am  lifted  above  it.  I  had  rather  see 
this  tempest  with  open  eyes  than  the  great  Corporation  in 
my  sleep. 

"  This  storm  gives  me  new  courage,  a  new  spirit,  and 
raises  me  far  above  its  idle  rage.  I  am  above  the 
storm  ;  I  am  on  the  top  of  Jacob's  ladder,  and  see  the 
heavenly  blue.  This  storm  quiets  my  soul.  It  has  caused, 
for  a  moment,  Charles  River  Bridge  to  disappear.  I  am 
in  a  new  element.  I  am  at  the  gate  of  heaven,  and  hear 
a  voice  you  cannot  hear ;  I  hear  a  voice  above  the  storm 
saving,  '  Martha  Gardner  shall  be  avenged,  but  not  in  her 


OB,  MORAL  REACTION.  73 

day.'  The  time  is  coming  when  there  shall  be  no  more 
passing  over  that  bridge  than  there  is  at  this  moment.  It 
shall  be  desolate  and  forsaken,  —  a  fishing-place.  The 
curlew  ami  gray  gull  and  stormy  petrel  shall  there  rest  in 
quiet.  The  traveller  shall  pass  over  another  highway,  and 
turning  his  head  shall  say,  '  Behold  the  great  highway  of 
the  north  and  of  the  east,  —  behold  how  desolate ! '  And 
it  shall  lie  desolate  ;  but  neither  storm  nor  tempest  nor 
fire  nor  earthquake  shall  destroy  it.  It  shall  be  like  a 
barren  spot  in  a  fertile  valley.  All  around  it  shall  flour- 
ish. The  voice  of  prosperity  shall  echo  and  re-echo  across 
the  river  from  all  the  hills  of  Boston,  even  to  the  heights 
of  Charlestown,  and  thence  among  the  islands ;  but  that 
spot  shall  become  a  solitude,  a  barren  streak  in  a  green 
circle.  The  grass  shall  spring  from  the  crevices,  but  it 
shall  wither  before  the  midday  sun.  No  living  thing  shall 
pass  over  it.  A  lost  child  shall  not  be  sought  in  that 
desolate  path.  The  traveller  shall  shun  it,  and  shall  pass 
another  way  to  the  great  city,  and  they  of  the  great  city 
shall  shun  it  and  pass  another  way  ;  and  they  of  the  great 
Corporation  shall  avoid  it,  turn  from  it,  and  pass  another 
way.  It  shall  disappear  in  all  its  glory  as  the  great  high- 
way of  the  north,  and  still  remain  visible  as  an  everlast- 
ing monument.  And  the  stranger  shall  come  from  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  to  behold  the  beautiful  city ; 
and  he  shall  ascend  the  mount  of  my  fathers,  and  shall 
view  the  beautiful  city,  begirt  with  mountains  of  emerald  ; 
and  he  shall  behold  the  thousand  villas  which  shall  stud 
the  lawns  like  diamonds,  and  the  distant  hills  pouring 
down  plenty,  while  the  Atlantic,  bearing  on  her  bosom  the 
harvest  of  the  world,  shall  bow  at  her  footstool.  And  the 
eyes  of  the  stranger  shall  become  weary  in  beholding  new 
beauties,  and  his  senses  sleep  from  the  fatigue  of  behold- 
ing the  ever-varying  prospect  changing  with  every  passing 


74  MARTHA  GARDNER. 

cloud,  and  be  shall  descend  from  the  mount  of  my  fathers 
and  return  to  the  beautiful  city  ;  but  when  he  shall  cast 
his  eye  on  this  spot  the  charm  shall  dissolve  lie  shall 
stand  amazed  and  demand, '  Why  that  solitude  amid  uni- 
versal life  ?  '  " 

Dimly  seen  through  the  spray,  she  now  withdrew  from 
the  storm,  and  gently  closed  the  window.  All  was  silent ; 
for  as  she  did  not  appear  to  address  the  spectators,  no  one 
knew  how  to  reply  to  her.  At  length  William  Goodwin, 
a  man  of  ardent  temperament  and  generous  feelings,  said, 
"  Truly,  that  was  Martha  Gardner's  countenance,  I  cannot 
be  deceived ;  for  the  flash  of  her  eyes  created,  amid  the 
storm,  a  rainbow  around  her  head.  But  it  was  not  —  no,  it 
was  not  Martha  Gardner's  voice.  This  means  something; 
here  is  a  mystery.  Some  of  us  may  live  to  see  it  unrav- 
elled; but  Martha  Gardner  never  uttered  all  that." 

The  storm  immediately  died  away.  The  next  morning 
was  calm  and  fair.  Martha  Gardner  soon  after  passed 
through  her  last  conflict  with  the  Corporation,  and  died. 

The  world  knows  all  the  rest.  The  traveller  who  passes 
over  Warren  Bridge,  and  turns  his  eye  over  his  shoulder 
and  beholds  the  present  desolation  of  Charles  River  Bridge, 
and  sees  the  immense  crowd  passing  over  the  new  highway, 
if  he  hath  any  faith  in  moral  reaction,  will  say,  "  In  truth, 
Martha  Gardner  built  Warren  Bridge  ;  "  and  in  other  times 
it  may  be  said,  "  As  true  as  Martha  Gardner  built  Warren 
Bridge."  1 

1  The  public  are  familiar  with  the  suit  lately  decided  in  the  United  States 
Supreme  Court  of  Errors,  between  the  proprietors  of  Charles  River  and 
Warren  Bridges.  The  decision  was  agaiust  the  Charles  River  Bridge,  and 
"  the  great  Corporation  "  have  vainly  petitioned  the  Massachusetts  Legisla- 
ture for  a  release  from  the  conditions  of  their  charter.  Their  bridge  is  seldom 
or  never  used,  and  must  soon  become  impassable.  The  distant  reader  may 
ask,  "  Why  is  this  ?  "  The  answer  is,  "  Warren  Bridge  is  free,  so  rendered  by 
an  act  of  the  Legislature ;  and  few  persons,  not  even  the  proprietors  them- 
selves, choose  to  pay  toll  for  the  privilege  of  crossing  Charles  River  Bridge." 


THE   MAN   WITH   THE   CLOAKS: 
A  VERMONT   LEGEND. 


THE   MAN   WITH   THE   CLOAKS: 

A   VERMONT   LEGEND. 


OX  the  border  of  Lake  Cliamplain  you  will  find  a  beau- 
tiful declivity  in  the  present  town  of  Ferrisburg, 
which  commands  a  southerly  view  of  the  lake.  In  a  calm 
summer  morning  you  may  look  down  on  a  sea  of  glass ; 
and  sometimes  in  winter  when  a  severe  frost  catches  the 
lake  asleep,  you  may  behold  a  spacious  mirror,  polished 
beyond  the  highest  skill  of  art. 

The  following  account  of  John  Grindall,  who  many  years 
since  lived  on  this  declivity,  is  still  current  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, although  time  has  probably  added  not  a  little  to  the 
real  facts.  Grindall  was  something  more  than  a  strict 
economist,  one  whom  the  present  extravagant  age  would 
pronounce  a  miser.  To  give  and  to  lose  had  with  him  the 
same  meaning ;  so,  to  get  and  to  keep. 

A  poor  traveller  from  the  Genesee  country,  on  his  return 
from  Canada,  was  overtaken  in  the  month  of  November  in 
the  year  1780  (a  memorable  cold  winter  in  New  England), 
without  a  surtout.  He  tarried  for  a  night  at  an  inn  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Ferrisburg.  His  landlord  taking  pity  on 
him,  observed,  "  My  neighbor  Grindall  has  just  bought  him- 
self, after  many  years,  a  new  cloak.  Call  on  him  to-morrow 
morning,  and  tell  him  I  sent  you,  and  hope  he  will  give  you 
his  old  cloak  ;  and,  moreover,  say  to  him,  he  will  never  be 


78        THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

less  warm  for  parting  with  it,  as  a  deed  of  charity  some- 
times warms  the  body  more  than  a  blanket." 

Accordingly  the  traveller  called  on  Grindall  and  told  his 
errand.  The  day  was  extremely  cold,  and  of  itself  pleaded 
most  eloquently  for  the  old  cloak 

"How  easy,"  said  Grindall,  "is  it  for  one  man  to  be 
liberal  of  the  property  of  another !  My  neighbor  is  one  of 
the  most  generous  men  in  the  world,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  he  has  nothing  to  give." 

"  You  do  him  wrong,  sir,"  said  the  traveller ;  "  he  gave 
me  a  lodging  and  a  breakfast;  and,  moreover,  said  you  were 
the  wealthiest  man  in  these  parts." 

"  Ay,"  said  Grindall,  "  I  have  grown  rich  by  keeping, 
not  by  giving.  If  the  weather  grows  much  colder,  I  shall 
want  not  only  my  new  cloak  and  my  old  one,  but  another." 

"  So  you  will  want  two,  or  more,  while  I  have  to  travel 
more  than  one  hundred  miles  without  any  !  Your  neighbor 
bade  me  tell  you  a  deed  of  charity  would  warm  one  better 
than  a  blanket." 

"  My  old  cloak  will  fit  no  one  but  myself." 

"Ah !  he  that  is  warm  thinks  all  others  are  so." 

"  But  you  should  be  more  provident,  and  not  have  to 
make  the  cloak  when  it  begins  to  rain.  However,  you  have 
one  advantage  :  a  threadbare  coat  is  armor-proof  against  a 
highwayman." 

"  And  perhaps,"  said  the  traveller,  "  another  advantage, 
'  the  greatest  wealth  is  contentment  with  a  little.' " 

"  Yes,"  said  Grindall,  "  many  talk  like  philosophers  and 
live  like  fools." 

"  But  sir,  if  you  make  money  your  god,  it  will  plague  you 
like  the  devil." 

"  But  he  is  not  wise  that  is  not  wise  for  himself ;  and  he 
that  woidd  give  to  all,  shows  great  good-will,  but  little 
wisdom." 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         79 

"  Still,  sir,  you  make  a  good  investment  when  you  relieve 
the  necessitous." 

"  All  my  income  is  applied  to  very  different  purposes." 

"  Farewell,  then.  You  may  want  more  than  two  cloaks 
to  keep  you  warm  if  I  perish  with  the  cold." 

The  traveller  departed.  A  few  days  afterward  a  rumor 
was  prevalent  that  a  traveller  had  perished  on  the  west 
side  of  the  lake.  Grindall  heard  the  report,  and  reflecting 
on  the  last  words  of  the  stranger,  felt  a  sudden  dullness 
shoot  through  his  frame.  There  was  nothing  supernatu- 
ral in  this :  the  hody  is  often  the  plaything  of  the  mind. 
The  imagination  can  produce  a  fever ;  and  why  may  it 
not  turn  the  heart  to  an  icicle,  especially  as  it  appeared 
that  Grindall's  heart  was  sufficiently  cold  before  ?  The 
morning  after  this  rumor  he  pronounced  it  the  coldest  day 
he  had  ever  experienced ;  and  he  sat  in  his  old  cloak  the 
whole  day.  congratulating  himself  that  he  had  not  given 
it  to  the  traveller.  The  next  day  seemed  to  Grindall  more 
severe  than  the  former ;  and  he  put  on  both  the  old  and 
the  new  cloak.  Nevertheless  he  was  far  from  comfortable. 
The  third  day  he  sent  to  his  tailor  for  a  new  cloak;  but 
as  the  tailor  could  not  make  a  cloak  in  a  day,  he  borrowed 
one  of  his  neighbor,  the  innkeeper. 

The  weather  .that  year,  1780,  as  is  well  known,  waxed 
daily  colder  and  colder,  and  Grindall  was  obliged  to  em- 
ploy all  the  tailors  far  and  wide,  for  nothing  could  keep 
him  warm,  not  even  an  additional  cloak  every  day ;  so  that 
Grindall  soon  excited  the  curiosity  of  all  around  him.  His 
appearance  indeed  must  have  been  grotesque.  His  circum- 
ference was  soon  so  great  that  he  could  not  pass  out  of  his 
door,  yet  nothing  less  than  a  new  cloak  daily  could  relieve 
him.  He  was  extremely  loath  to  send  for  a  physician  ;  for 
having  on  one  occasion  been  bled  by  a  doctor,  he  was  heard 
to  declare  that  he  never  would  part  with  any  more  of  his 


80        THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

blood,  meaning  thereby  his  money.  However,  Grindall  was 
not  without  medical  advice.  Curiosity  soon  filled  his 
house.  All  the  old  ladies  far  and  near,  Indian  doctors 
and  doctresscs,  offered  him  more  remedies  than  can  be 
found  in  the  Materia  Medica.  Even  the  regular  and  irreg- 
ular faculty  gave  him  a  call  gratis,  hoping  at  least  to  learn 
something  either  in  confirmation  of  preconceived  opinion, 
or,  what  was  more  agreeable,  from  practical  experiment  on 
a  new  disease.  While  it  cost  nothing,  Grindall  was  willing 
to  listen  and  submit ;  hence  his  house  became  a  hospital, 
and  himself  the  recipient  of  a  thousand  prescriptions.  But 
all  availed  nothing ;  he  grew  colder  every  day.  Every  new 
cloak  was  but  a  wreath  of  snow.  The  doctors  at  length 
began  to  quarrel  among  themselves.  In  thoir  various  ex- 
periments they  so  often  crossed  one  another's  path,  and 
administered  such  opposite  remedies,  that  Grindall  began 
to  jeer  them.  The  only  perspiration  he  enjoyed  for  three 
months  was  caused  by  a  fit  of  laughter  at  the  doctors' 
expense.  He  plainly  told  them,  if  one  remedy  would  cure, 
another  would  as  certainly  kill.  To  this  each  physician 
readily  assented,  but  at  the  same  time  asserted  that  his 
own  remedy  was  the  only  cure.  These  opposite  prescrip- 
tions soon  embroiled  all  his  doctors,  both  male  and  female  ; 
at  the  same  time  there  was  a  perplexing  debate  respecting 
the  nature  of  the  disease.  While  one  pronounced  the  dis- 
order a  weakness  of  the  blood,  another  asserted  it  was  an 
ossification  of  the  heart,  —  a  disorder  incident  to  many  old 
persons,  and  always  accompanying  an  undue  love  of  money. 
Another  said  the  disorder  arose  from  a  defect  of  the  blood 
in  the  heart,  and  the  true  remedy  was  to  send  the  blood 
from  the  extremities  to  the  heart.  While  the  doctors  were 
disputing,  Grindall  was  growing  colder  and  colder,  and  his 
circumference  larger  and  larger,  so  that  he  nearly  filled 
the  largest  room  in  his  house. 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         81 

Toward  Bpring,  when  the  sun  began  to  assert  himself, 
and  when  the  snow  began  to  moisten,  an  incident  befell 
Grindall,  which  has  become  an  interesting  part  of  this 
memorandum.  Grindall  said  he  had  been  confined  to  the 
house  more  than  three  months,  and  as  it  was  a  beautiful 
day,  he  would  walk  out  and  learn  if  there  were  any  heat  in 
the  sun.  But  there  was  one  difficulty  attending  this  enter- 
prise :  it  was  necessary  in  order  to  pass  his  doorway,  to 
throw  off  more  than  seventy  cloaks  ;  for  in  order  to  feel 
in  any  way  comfortable,  he  was  still  obliged  to  add  a  new 
cloak  every  day.  While  the  ceremony  of  disrobing  was 
taking  place,  Grindall  complained  bitterly  of  the  cold ; 
and  before  his  assistants  could  re-cloak  him,  he  became 
nearly  senseless.  At  twelve  o'clock  he  was  re-clothed. 
As  he  stood  on  his  doorstep,  which  overlooked  the  lake, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  sensible  of  the  beauties 
of  Nature,  though  in  winter ;  for  having  been  housed  more 
than  three  months,  the  glory  of  the  sun,  the  purity  of  the 
air,  and  the  sublimity  of  the  lake,  which  reflected  at  mid- 
day ten  thousand  diamonds,  seemed  for  a  moment  to  warm 
his  heart.  He  became  exhilarated,  and  not  having  the  usual 
command  of  his  legs,  and  being  ill-balanced  owing  to  the 
hasty  putting  on  of  the  seventy  cloaks,  he  faltered,  reeled, 
and  gently  fell  on  the  snow.  In  a  moment,  owing  to  the 
sharp  declivity  and  the  moistened  surface  of  the  snow,  he 
became  a  huge  snowball.  The  snow  as  usual  had  covered 
the  tops  of  the  walls  and  fences,  and  there  was  no  impedi- 
ment in  the  descent  to  Lake  Champlain.  Accordingly, 
very  soon  Grindall  became  apparently  a  huge  rotund  snow- 
ball, and  acrpuired  at  every  rebound  additional  velocity  ; 
and  when  this  man-mountain  arrived  at  the  margin  of  the 
frozen  lake,  he  swiftly  passed  its  whole  diameter. 

And  now  the  whole  country  was  rallied  to  disinter 
Grindall  from  his  mountain  snowbank.     Various  were  the 


82        THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

speculations  attending  this  snow-scene  excavation.  To 
some  who  held  Grindall  in  no  respect,  it  was  a  half- 
holiday  ;  to  others  more  serious,  connected  with  what  had 
already  happened,  it  was  more  solemn.  Some  asserted  he 
never  could  be  dug  out  alive ;  others,  more  indifferent, 
said  he  was  as  safe  as  a  toad  in  his  winter  quarters. 
A  physician  who  had  tried  all  imaginable  remedies,  as- 
serted he  would  come  out  a  well  man;  for  the  rapid 
circulation  of  the  snowball  would  equally  circulate  the 
man,  induce  a  profound  perspiration  through  the  whole 
system,  and  effect  a  cure.  "  All  that  may  be  true,"  said 
another  physician  who  had  just  arrived;  "but  the  man 
can  never  be  dug  out  alive,  for  this  internal  heat,  like  a 
volcanic  fire,  will  melt  the  surrounding  snow,  cause  an 
internal  deluge,  and  drown  the  man."  "  But,"  said  a  third, 
"  if  the  man  should  come  out  alive,  he  will  be  deranged ; 
for  as  his  descent  may  have  been  oblique,  all  his  brains 
probably  have  fallen  on  one  side."  "  Never  mind  what  the 
doctors  say,"  said  one  of  the  working-men,  "  old  Grindall 
may  yet  be  got  out  alive,  and  prove  himself  a  worthy  man. 
Though  all  the  doctors  could  not  cure  him,  this  very  acci- 
dent may  ;  for  accident  and  Nature  are  two  great  physi- 
cians, and  have  often  outwitted  the  faculty." 

In  the  mean  time  the  snow  flew  merrily.  Curiosity  light- 
ened their  labors  and  speeded  their  snow-shovels ;  but  all 
their  efforts  could  not  release  Grindall  in  one  day.  The 
succeeding  night  was  honorable  to  the  neighborhood,  for 
there  was  a  general  assembly  of  the  townsfolk,  and  no  little 
sympathy  expressed  for  the  fate  of  Grindall.  The  next 
day  additional  succor  came,  and  before  midday  they  came 
in  contact  with  the  outside  cloak.  There  was  a  loud  and 
tumultuous  call  on  Grindall.  No  answer ;  but  soon  they 
perceived  a  gentle  moving  of  the  cloak,  as  though  the  in- 
habitant was  stirring.     A  moment  more  and  Grindall  saw 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         83 

daylight.  The  first  words  he  uttered  were,  "  Cover  me  up 
again,  oh,  cover  me  up  !  I  perish  with  the  cold !  "  Dis- 
regarding his  cries  they  brought  him  forth  to  open  day. 
But  Grindall's  cry  was,  "  Another  cloak,  or  I  perish  ; " 
and  the  garment  was  immediately  loaned  him  by  a  spec- 
tator. By  the  help  of  a  sled  and  four  horses  he  was  soon 
at  home. 

When  Grindall  was  first  discovered,  he  looked  as  fresh 
as  a  new-blown  damask  rose ;  and  though  you  could  see 
nothing  but  his  face,  joy  seemed  to  illumine  bis  counte- 
nance, and  so  far  contracted  his  muscles  as  to  disclose  a 
fine  set  of  teeth,  which  shone  from  out  his  many  cloaks 
like  so  many  orient  pearls  at  the  bottom  of  a  dungeon. 

The  spring  now  began  gradually  to  exchange  her  heavy 
white  robe  for  a  silken  green  ;  and  those  who  knew  more 
than  their  neighbors,  said  that  the  only  doctor  who  could 
cure  Grindall  was  the  great  restorer  of  the  vegetable 
world.  Indeed,  Grindall  himself  now  looked  to  the  sun 
as  his  only  remedy.  But  to  the  surprise  of  all  and  the 
despair  of  poor  Grindall,  the  sun  made  no  more  impres- 
sion on  him  than  did  the  great  yellow  dog  who  had 
been  hanged  on  the  tree  before  his  door  for  sheep-stealing. 
At  midday  in  the  month  of  July  you  might  have  seen 
Grindall  sitting  in  his  now  more  than  two  hundred  cloaks 
on  his  door-stone,  courting  the  notice  of  the  sun,  which 
regarded  him  with  the  same  sensibility  that  it  does  a 
snow-drift  in  winter  on  Mount  Bellingham.  This  cir- 
cumstance of  course  gave  currency  to  many  strange 
stories ;  one,  for  instance,  that  the  coldness  of  Grin- 
dall's head  was  such,  that  a  gallon  of  warm  water 
poured  on  his  head,  in  July,  ran  down  to  his  shoulders 
in  icicles.  This,  and  a  thousand  such  idle  rumors,  gave 
a  miraculous  coloring  to  the  real  facts;  especially  as 
hundreds  of  people  from  the  frontiers,  even  from  Canada, 


84         THE  MAX  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

both  whites  and  Indians,  attracted  by  curiosity,  came  to 
see  a  man  clad  in  ten  score  of  cloaks  in  July. 

After  the  summer  solstice,  Grindall  himself  began  to 
despair  ;  for  the  superstition,  or  more  probably  the  solemn 
reflection  of  the  people,  began  to  treat  his  case  as  some- 
thing out  of  the  common  course  of  nature,  and  they 
believed  Grindall  to  be  what  the  Scotch  call  "  a  doomed 
man."  This  was  equal  to  an  interdict  of  fire  and  water. 
Grindall's  house  became  a  solitude.  All,  even  women, 
refrained  from  visiting  him. 

Thus  the  solitary  Grindall  wrapped  himself  up  in  his 
many  cloaks,  and  sat  on  his  door-stone,  courting  in  vain 
the  rays  of  the  sun.  One  day  when  peering  wistfully 
through  the  long  avenue  of  his  cloaks  at  the  fervid  sun, 
to  him  more  like  the  moon  in  winter,  he  was  heard  to 
exclaim,  "  0  wretched  me  !  I  am  an  outcast  from  hu- 
man nature.  There  is  no  human  being  to  sympathize  with 
me ;  all  forsake  me.  I  am  alone  in  the  world.  At 
home,  without  a  home  ;  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it.  More 
than  an  outcast,  all  men  fly  from  me ;  even  the  women, 
the  natural  nurses  of  men,  have  lost  their  curiosity.  The 
dogs  do  not  even  bark,  but  stare  at  me  and  pass  on. 
The  birds  have  retreated  to  other  woods.  How  dreadful 
is  this  solitude  !  If  I  look  up,  the  sun  has  no  genial 
smile  for  me  ;  if  I  look  down,  I  have  no  hope  but  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth.  If  I  look  within  —  I  dare  not 
look  within,  for  there  a  solitude  reigns  more  dreadful 
still.  Fool  that  I  was,  —  I  once  thought  a  bag  of  money 
the  easiest  pillow  I  could  repose  on." 

Thus  the  summer  passed  away,  while  Grindall  had 
no  other  occupation  than  to  procure  a  new  cloak  every 
day.  But  about  the  middle  of  November,  the  anniversary 
of  the  traveller's  visit  to  him,  who  should  cull  at  his 
house  but  the   same   man  who   the   year  preceding  had 


THE   MAX   WITH   THE  CLOAKS.  85 

begged  his  old  cloak.  Grindall  immediately  recognized 
him  by  instinct,  for  that  was  nearly  all  that  remained 
to  the  unhappy  man  ;  and  there  came  over  him  a  sud- 
den feeling  that  this  same  man  was  connected  with  his 
fate,  and  was  the  harbinger  of  a  good  result.  Moreover 
the  man  was  supposed  to  have  perished,  and  his  appear- 
ance to  Grindall  was  like  one  risen  from  the  grave. 
The  stranger  was  therefore  doubly  welcome.  He  heard, 
with  apparent  wonder,  an  account  of  the  events  of  the 
past  year ;  and  in  conclusion  Grindall  stated  that  he  had 
exhausted  the  whole  art  of  the  faculty,  who  had  pro- 
nounced him  incurable,  and  that  he  had  at  length  begun 
to  despair. 

"  A  strange  case,  indeed,"  said  the  stranger.  u  Tell 
me  all  that  the  doctors  have  done  for  you." 

"  They  have  done  nothing  for  me  ;  but  I  can  tell  you 
what  they  have  done  to  me.  They  have  made  a  laboratory 
of  me,  and  subjected  me  to  all  sorts  of  experiments, — 
cold  remedies  and  warm,  internal  and  external,  remedies 
the  most  opposite.  I  have  been  roasted  by  one,  boiled 
by  another ;  I  have  been  stewed,  blistered,  and  parboiled 
by  a  third  ;  merged  in  hot  water,  wrung  out,  and  laid  by 
to  dry,  and  immediately  after  subjected  to  a  cold  bath. 
I  should  have  been  baked  could  they  have  stowed  me 
with  all  my  cloaks  into  the  oven.  The  Spanish  Inquisi- 
tion is  a  flower-bed  in  comparison  with  the  bed  the 
doctors  have  spread  for  me.  They  have  made  an  apoth- 
ecary's shop  of  my  inwards,  while  each  one  told  me  his 
own  remedy  was  the  sovereignest  remedy  on  earth  for 
a  cold  affection  of  the  blood. 

"  When  the   doctors   relinquished   me,  I   fell   into   the  * 
hands  of  a  hundred  old  ladies.     Good  souls  !  they  would 
have  cured  me  if  they  could  ;  for  they  exhausted  all  that 
is  known  of   botany.     I  can  tell  you  the   taste  of  every 


86        THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

vegetable  that  ever  grew  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  both 
root  and  branch  ;  from  the  sweet  fern  to  the  bitter  cl-wort, 
from  henbane  to  nightshade.  And  here,  oh,  forgive  me 
if  my  cold  blood  warms  in  wrath  !  one  pertinacious 
female  forced  down  a  whole  dragon-root,  and  said,  if 
that  did  not  cure  me,  nothing  would.  It  did,  indeed, 
nearly  cure  me  of  all  my  earthly  pains  ;  for  I  thought 
it  time  to  send  for  the  sexton,  the  only  friend  I  have 
in  this  world." 

"But,"  said  the  traveller,  "why  did  you  permit  so 
many  vain  experiments  to  be  tried  on  you.  It  is  the  de- 
light of  the  physician  to  experiment  on  new  cases.  If  he 
succeeds,  he  has  achieved  some  great  thing ;  if  he  fails, 
the  case  was  remediless." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Grindall,  "  let  the  well  man  laugh  at  the 
doctors  ;  but  the  sick  man  is  all  ears  to  those  who  promise 
help.     Cannot  you  do  something  for  me  ? " 

"  I  can  tell  you  one  thing ;  you  are  no  warmer  for 
your  many  cloaks.  It  is  not  the  clothes  that  keep  the 
body  warm  ;  therefore  whoever  can  warm  your  heart  can 
certainly  cure  you." 

"  That  I  fear  is  impossible ;  I  never  felt  my  heart 
warm  in  all  my  life.  Not  one  of  the  thousand  remedies 
that  I  suffered  ever  touched  my  heart.  The  dragon-root 
which  burned  my  bowels,  made  no  impression  on  my 
heart.*' 

"  Nevertheless  I  can  cure  you  if  you  will  submit  to 
the  remedy.  You  may  think  it  cruel  and  tedious,  but  I 
believe  I  can  warrant  you  a  cure." 

"  Name  it,  try  it,  —  I  am  all  submission,  —  and  you 
shall  have  half  of  my  estate." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  must  not  be  selfish,  and  oppose  a  cold 
heart  to  your  warm  one.  I  see  a  change  in  you  already. 
Do  you  not  feel  a  little  better  ?  " 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         87 

"  I  do,  I  protest  I  do ;  the  last  cloak  I  put  on  feels 
rather  heavy. *' 

"  The  cure  lies  entirely  with  yourself ;  all  the  doctors 
in  the  universe,  male  and  female,  can  do  you  no  good. 
A  permanently  warm  heart  depends  on  the  man  himself." 

"  Ah,  you  mock  me  ;  how  can  a  man  warm  his  own 
heart,  when  naturally  cold  ? " 

"Aa  easy  as  a  man  can  awake  from  a  sound  sleep. 
Pray  tell  me  how  many  cloaks  encircle  you." 

"  This  very  day  counts  a  year,  that  is  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  cloaks." 

"  It  will  require  a  whole  year  to  perform  a  perfect 
cure  ;  in  the  mean  time  you  will  be  comfortable,  more 
so  every  day." 

"  But  what  horrible  drug  are  you  about  to  propose  ? 
I  thought  I  had  exhausted  both  Nature  and  art." 

"  Be  easy,  Mr.  Grindall,  you  will  swallow  nothing.  As 
your  disorder  has  appeared  to  many  inexplicable,  your 
cure  will  appear  equally  so,  if  you  can  only  warm  your 
own  heart.  I  must  now  leave  you  ;  I  am  on  my  annual 
visit  to  Canada,  but  when  I  return  I  will  call  to  see 
you.  To-morrow,  about  this  time,  you  may  chance  to 
find  a  remedy  :  but  whether  or  not  you  will  improve  it, 
depends  entirely  on  yourself.     Farewell." 

The  stranger  immediately  returned  to  the  innkeeper 
and  requested  him  to  send  to  Grindall  on  the  morrow 
the  most  destitute  man  he  could  find. 

"  Why.  you  are  the  very  man,"  said  the  innkeeper, 
"  who  begged  his  old  cloak  last  winter,  and  the  report 
was  you  had  perished  with  the  cold.  You  might  as  well 
attempt  to  warm  Grindall's  heart  as  to  obtain  a  cloak 
from  him.     He  buys  a  new  one  every  day." 

"  No  matter ;  say  nothing  about  a  cloak,  but  do  as  I 
tell  you.     Farewell." 


88        THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

The  Stranger  was  not  in  the  innkeeper's  house  one 
minute  ;  and  the  innkeeper  soon  hegan  to  think  a  vision 
had  passed  over  him.  The  call,  the  conversation,  and  the 
departure  were  all  one.  In  a  few  minutes  he  began  to 
treat  it  as  the  magnanimous  Jefferson  once  treated  an 
injury,  "  like  one  of  those  things  that  never  happened." 
But  still,  the  more  the  innkeeper  believed  it  a  vision,  the 
deeper  impression  it  wrought  on  him.  At  that  time,  in 
those  deep  solitudes  on  the  frontiers  of  a  savage  wilder- 
ness, the  natural  easily  passed  into  the  supernatural ; 
therefore  the  innkeeper  soon  resolved,  whether  he  had  suf- 
fered under  an  illusion  or  had  seen  a  reality,  to  seek 
out  and  send  a  proper  object  to  Grindall.  This  was  no 
easy  task.  In  those  days  it  was  as  difficult  to  find  a  very 
poor  man  as  it  is  now  difficult  to  find  a  very  honest  one. 
However,  before  night  he  found  his  object ;  and  as  the 
next  day  proved  extremely  inclement,  the  innkeeper  thought 
it  possible  Grindall  might  give  the  poor  man  one  of  three 
hundred  and  sixty -five  cloaks. 

The  next  morning,  as  if  by  accident,  a  half-naked  man 
stood  at  the  door  of  Grindall's  house,  dubious  whether  he 
should  enter  or  not.  The  appearance  of  the  poor  man 
was  more  eloquent  than  any  language,  and  the  day  itself 
was  a  powerful  appeal.  When  Grindall  understood  that 
a  man  was  standing  on  his  doorstep,  he  reached  his  spy- 
glass, for  he  was  now  obliged  to  use  a  long  spy-glass  in 
order  to  see  through  the  long  avenue  of  his  many  cloaks. 
As  soon  as  he  beheld  the  man,  "  What,  my  friend,"  said 
Grindall  with  unwonted  courtesy,  "  has  brought  you  here 
this  cold  day  ? "  "I  was  sent  here  without  any  errand, 
supposing  you  wanted  to  see  me."  "  I  did  not  send  for 
you."  "  It  is  only  a  mistake  then  ;  farewell."  "  But  stop, 
friend;  you  are  almost  naked.  Arc  you  not  perishing  with 
the  cold  ?     I  am  under  cover  of  three  hundred  and  sixtv- 


THE  MAX  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         89 

five  cloaks."  "  I  have  on  my  whole  wardrobe,"  said  the 
stranger,  w  and,  thank  Providence,  my  heart  keens  me 
tolerably  warm."  "  The  heart,  the  heart,  a  warm  heart," 
muttered  Grindall  to  bimself.  "  '  To-morrow,  about  this 
time,  you  may  chance  to  find  a  remedy  ;  but  whether  or  not 
you  will  improve  it,  depends  entirely  on  yourself.'  This 
man.  without  knowing  it,  may  be  the  remedy.  —  Why,  how 
wonderful !  You,  almost  naked  in  the  extremity  of  winter, 
are  comfortable ;  while  I,  by  my  fireside,  clad  in  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty-five  cloaks,  am  suffering  with  cold."  "  I 
presume,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "your  heart  is  cold.  If 
you  could  warm  your  heart,  your  cloaks  would  be  a  burden 
to  you."  "  Ah,  that  is  impossible.  However,  you  seem  to 
be  a  worthy  man  ;  Heaven  may  have  sent  you  here  for 
your  own  good,  if  not  for  mine.  One  cloak  among  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  can  make  no  great  difference. 
Take  this  cloak  ;  it  was  new  yesterday,  and  may  you  never 
want  but  one  at  a  time."  "  I  accept  it  most  thankfully," 
said  the  stranger  ;  and  he  departed. 

The  next  morning  Grindall  either  did  feel,  or  thought 
he  felt,  a  little  more  comfortable.  He  sent  for  the  inn- 
keeper and  related  what  had  happened.  "  I  feel,"  said 
Grindall,  "  or  fancy  I  feel  relieved  from  the  burden  of  the 
last  cloak."  "  If  that  is  the  case,"  said  the  innkeeper,  "  I 
advise  you  to  part  with  another."  "  With  all  my  heart," 
said  Grindall,  "  if  I  could  find  an  object."  "  Ay,  sir,  I 
fear  your  trouble  now  will  be  to  shake  off  your  cloaks. 
It  is  easier  for  you  to  procure  a  new  cloak  every  day,  than 
to  find  every  day  a  worthy  object."  "  What  shall  I  do  ? 
My  outside  cloak  grows  heavier  and  heavier ;  it  has  already 
become  a  grievous  burden.  Pray,  sir,  assist  me ;  you  sec 
I  cannot  go  abroad  with  all  these  cloaks.  If  I  should  fall 
in  my  present  bulk,  I  should  roll  again  on  to  the  lake,  and 
might  not  be  dug  out  till  spring."     "  Your  case,"  said  the 


90        THE  MAX  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

innkeeper,  "  is  certainly  a  strange  one,  and  somewhat 
marvellous  ;  for  I  now  perceive  you  suffer  more  from  the 
weight  of  your  cloaks  than  you  do  from  the  cold.  Is  it 
not  so  ? "  "I  cannot  say  exactly  that ;  but  the  outside 
cloak  seems  to  feel  heavier  than  all  the  others."  "  I  wish 
you  were  down  cast  in  the  Bay  State,"  said  the  innkeeper, 
"  among  the  poor  people  of  Charlestown,  who  were  all 
burned  out  of  house  and  home  by  the  British.  You  would 
find  among  them  objects  of  pity  enough  ;  for  I  understand 
Congress  never  gave  them  a  penny,  —  only  told  them  to 
call  again."  "  If  they  were  within  one  hundred  yards  of 
me,  I  would  send  every  one  of  them  a  cloak,"  said  Grindall. 
"  But."  said  the  innkeeper,  "  why  do  you  not  take  off  your 
outside  cloak,  if  it  is  such  a  burden  ?  Why  do  you  wait 
until  you  can  find  an  object  on  whom  to  bestow  it?"  "  I 
have  tried  that  experiment  twice  this  morning,  and  each 
time  a  cold  shivering  obliged  me  to  put  it  on  again  ;  but  if 
I  could  find  a  worthy  object,  like  the  one  yesterday,  I  fancy 
that  it  might  warm  my  heart.  I  wish  to  try  the  same 
experiment  again,  even  if  I  send  to  Massachusetts."  "  You 
need  not  send  so  far ;  only  let  it  be  known  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake  that  you  have  a  cloak  for  a  native  Indian, 
and  you  will  not  want  for  customers."  "  White,  black,  and 
red,  in  distress,"  said  Grindall,  "  are  all  my  brethren  ;  only 
find  me  a  man  in  distress  for  a  cloak,  and  you  shall  have 
my  hearty  thanks."  "  A  wonderful  change,  indeed,"  said 
the  innkeeper.  "  Only  last  summer  there  was  no  human 
being  with  whom  you  could  sympathize."  "  True,  but 
since  yesterday  I  perceive  I  have  something  within  me 
which  they  call  a  heart ;  for  after  I  gave  that  cloak  to 
the  poor  man  yesterday,  I  soon  felt  something  stir  within 
me,  warmer  than  all  my  cloaks.  But  talking  never  cured 
a  man  like  me ;  send  me  a  poor  man  in  want  of  a  cloak, 
—  that  is  the  best  doctor." 


THE  MAX  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         91 

Soon  afterward  a  stranger  entered  the  door,  and  Grindall 
asked  if  the  innkeeper  had  sent  him.  "  Yes,"  said  the 
stranger.  "  What  did  he  tell  you  ?  "  "  Nothing  ;  only  to 
go  to  Mr.  Grindall's  house,  he  wanted  to  see  me."  "  Right ; 
do  you  know  any  one  really  in  want  of  a  good  warm  cloak  ? 
You  see  I  have  more  than  my  share."  "  I  will  thankfully 
receive  one,"  said  the  stranger.  "  But  with  this  condition," 
said  Grindall.  -  that  you  send  me  another  poor  man  who 
is  in  want  of  a  cloak."  "  With  all  my  heart,"  said  the 
stranger.     "  Then  take  it  with  all  my  heart." 

Thus  from  day  to  day  Grindall  grew  a  little  warmer. 
As  the  spring  advanced,  he  found  it  more  difficult  to  be- 
stow his  cloaks ;  and  on  the  approach  of  summer  he  was 
obliged  to  employ  twenty  men  in  scouring  the  country 
to  hunt  up  suitable  subjects.  Though  in  winter  the  In- 
dians were  his  best  customers,  yet  in  summer  no  Indian 
would  travel  far  to  receive  a  cloak. 

As  the  dog-days  approached,  the  anxiety  of  Grindall  was 
redoubled;  for  as  the  heat  increased,  though  he  suffered 
nothing  from  it,  yet  the  warmth  of  the  remaining  one 
hundred  and  fifty  cloaks  required  constant  watching,  lest 
spontaneous  combustion  should  consume  both  himself 
and  his  woollen  environment.  This  converted  Grindall 
sometimes  into  a  real  spectacle.  While  sitting  in  the  sun 
he  would  appear  to  be  enveloped  in  a  warm  vapor,  such  as 
you  sometimes  see  in  a  morning,  rising  over  a  meadow ; 
and  when  the  sun  played  upon  this  vapor  Grindall  would 
appear  to  be  surrounded  with  beautiful  rainbows.  This 
was  considered  by  all  the  curious  females  in  the  neigh- 
borhood a  good  sign ;  and  they  all  prophesied  that  Grin- 
dall would  yet  come  out  bright.  It  is  an  ill  wind  that 
blows  nobody  any  good.  Although  this  warm  mist  pro- 
duced a  vapor  suffocating  to  Grindall,  it  was  productive 
of  no  little  benefit  to  others.     Thousands  of  esrixs  were 


92         THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

sent  to  Qrindall,  who  enveloped  them  in  his  cloaks  ;  and 
after  a  little  while,  from  under  the  skirts  there  proceeded 
hroods  of  chickens.  This  breed  became  famous.  The 
gallant  little  rooster  on  board  McDonough's  ship,  who, 
previous  to  the  battle  on  Lake  Champlain,  perched  on  the 
foreyard  and  crowed  thrice,  cock-a-hoop,  was  of  this  same 
breed. 

One  day  toward  the  end  of  August,  while  Grindall 
from  his  door-stone  was  watching  the  descending  sun  and 
eagerly  expecting  the  approach  of  a  traveller  to  relieve 
him  from  his  outside  cloak,  it  is  said  he  suddenly  made  an 
unnatural  and  hideous  outcry,  which  echoed  and  re-echoed 
through  the  mountains  and  over  the  lake,  even  to  Mem- 
phremagog.  This  ebullition  of  Grindall  must  have  been 
terrific,  for  the  wild  beasts,  then  so  numerous  on  the  Green 
Mountains,  all  left  their  lurking-places.  The  bears,  cata- 
mounts, and  foxes,  with  one  consent  took  to  the  trees. 
The  wolves  alone  stood  their  ground  and  answered  to  the 
supposed  challenge.  It  was  feared  at  first  that  the  howling 
of  the  wolves  would  be  everlasting  ;  for  as  the  nature  of 
the  wolf  is  gregarious,  all  within  hearing  assembled  at  the 
first  call,  and  soon  an  army  of  wolves  collected  around  the 
habitation  of  Grindall.  As  their  howling,  like  the  out- 
cry of  Grindall,  echoed  and  re-echoed  among  the  moun- 
tains, the  wolves  mistook  each  individual  howl  of  their  own 
for  a  new  challenge ;  and  thus  a  continuous  howl  through 
the  remainder  of  the  day  and  following  night  agitated  the 
Green  Mountains,  even  to  Montpelier,  east,  and  to  the 
borders  of  Canada,  north.  But  at  sunrise  all  was  quiet. 
The  howling,  from  pure  exhaustion,  gradually  died  away, 
so  that  no  echo  was  returned  ;  and  then  all  was  as  still  as 
when  Adam  was  a  lone  man. 

One  good  sprung  out  of  this  incident.  It  was  remarked 
for  several  years  afterward  that  in  the  vicinity  of  Ferris- 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.         93 

burg  no  wild  beasts  were  to  be  seen.  Hence  deer,  sheep, 
and  poultry,  safe  from  their  enemies,  increased  in  geometri- 
cal progression,  to  the  utter  subversion  of  the  theory  after- 
ward promulgated  by  Mr.  Malthas.  The  fact  was,  the  wild 
beasts  had  retired  affrighted  to  other  forests. 

Now  much  of  this  wolvish  story  has  doubtless  been 
added  to  the  account  of  Grindall.  Yet  it  is  in  some  degree 
credible,  for  it  is  well  known  that  the  human  ear  placed 
near  the  earth  can  hear  the  report  of  a  cannon  forty 
miles  ;  and  we  know  that  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  natur- 
ally carrying  their  heads  low,  have  an  ear  vastly  more 
sensitive  to  sounds  than  man. 

After  this  outcry  Grindall  exclaimed,  "What  could  have 
kept  those  men  warm,  half  naked  as  they  were,  who  cap- 
tured Burgoyne  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake  ?  They  must 
have  had  very  warm  hearts.  Yes,  it  must  be  true,  as  the 
stranger  told  me,  the  heart  keeps  the  body  warm.  I  see 
it  clearly  ;  the  country  is  safe,  —  it  never  can  be  conquered. 
Burgoyne  spoke  the  truth  when  he  said  it  is  impossible  to 
conquer  a  people  who  fight  till  their  small  clothes  drop  off 
in  rags.  Warm-hearted  fellows,  I  wish  I  could  give  every 
one  of  them  a  cloak  !  But  here  am  I,  the  wonder  and 
horror  of  all  around  me ;  a  dead  weight  on  creation ; 
worse,  a  monster,  repulsive  to  man  and  beast,  —  the  sport 
of  all  nature.  The  elements  conspire  against  me.  I  am 
equally  exposed  to  fire  and  frost.  The  sun  laughs  at  me, 
and  buries  me  in  a  cloud  of  vapor.  At  one  moment  I  am 
threatened  with  a  deluge ;  at  the  next  with  a  conflagra- 
tion ;  then  comes  a  wind,  a  heart-withering  wind,  and  dis- 
sipates all  and  whistles  through  my  flapping  cloaks,  and 
sings  in  mockery  :  — 

'  If  old  Grindall's  heart  is  as  cold  as  his  head 
Old  Grindall's  heart  is  the  icicle's  bed.'  " 

But  this  was  onlv  one  of  Grindall's  ill  turns.     He  was 


94  TflE   MAN    WITH   THE   CLOAKS. 

evidently  growing  butter,  and  as  the  cool  weather  ap- 
proached he  appeared  more  anxious  than  ever  to  shake 
oil  his  cloaks.  So  far  from  appearing  a  doomed  man  to 
his  neighbors,  he  was  considered  a  man  changed  only  for 
the  better,  llis  house  began  to  be  crowded  again  with  the 
curious,  and  all  those  who  delight  in  the  marvellous.  His 
former  visitors,  except  his  medical  oracles,  who  confessed 
he  was  an  outlaw  to  their  several  systems,  came  to  con- 
gratulate him  on  what  they  termed  his  return  to  human 
nature. 

But  now  a  new  occurrence  arrested  the  attention  of  all. 
As  the  season  advanced  toward  the  anniversary  of  the 
grand  investment  of  the  cloaks,  the  daily  dispensation  of 
each  cloak  gave  rise  to  various  reports,  utterly  subver- 
sive of  the  human  character  of  Grindall.  The  fact  was 
thus  :  Immediately  preceding  the  divesting  of  a  cloak,  it 
would  appear  to  be  animated  with  life.  It  would  first 
tremble,  then  crankle,  and  then  dance  all  around  the 
body  of  Grindall.  It  would  seem  joyful,  almost  intelli- 
gent, and  inclined  to  speak.  It  did  not  shrivel  or  show 
any  sign  of  distress.  Not  a  few  asserted  all  this  was  ac- 
companied by  a  noise  not  unlike  the  rumbling  of  distant 
thunder.  But  the  moment  the  cloak  was  put  off,  it  was 
as  quiet  as  lamb's  wool.  No  wonder  it  began  to  be  noised 
abroad  that  there  was  an  evil  spirit  in  each  cloak. 

Fortunate  was  it  for  Grindall  that  no  ventriloquist  added 
to  the  alarm  ;  for  in  those  days  Mr.  Page  could  have  made 
all  these  cloaks  speak  whatever  language  he  pleased,  and 
thus  the  unhappy  Grindall  might  have  suffered  an  igno- 
minious fate,  under  the  statute  of  James  the  First,  against 
witchcraft  and  sorcery.  But  the  event  soon  showed  there 
was  no  evil  spirit  concealed  in  these  cloaks  ;  and,  if  I  may 
hazard  an  opinion  at  this  late  day,  I  would  account  for  it 
all  in  a  natural  way.     There  was,  no  doubt,  daily  a  strange 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS.  9.5 

appearance  in  each  cloak  previous  to  its  leaving  the  body 
of  Grindall.  It  may  have  trembled,  and  may  have  ap- 
peared to  flutter  about  his  body.  This  simple  circum- 
stance, even  in  the  present  enlightened  times,  would 
immediately  grow  into  the  marvellous.  All  these  strange 
appearances  might  arise  from  the  bounding  heart  of 
Grindall.  Every  cloak  that  he  gave  away  expanded  his 
heart.  It  beat  high  with  the  joyful  assurance  that  when 
all  bis  cloaks  had  left  him,  he  would  become  a  well  man  ; 
hence  the  agitation  of  bis  heart  caused  bim  and  his  whole 
environment  to  tremble,  and  the  supposed  thunder  was 
only  noise  caused  by  his  heart-throbs.  Greater  mistakes 
than  this  have  been  made  down  east,  near  Boston,  where 
the  good  people  of  a  certain  town  on  the  sea-coast  lived 
a  whole  century,  after  the  settlement  of  the  country,  on 
shags,  mistaking  them  for  wild  geese. 

However  the  truth  might  be,  respecting  this  affair  of  the 
cloaks,  one  thing  is  certain,  —  it  was  near  proving  fatal  to 
Grindall ;  for  many  of  those  who  came  to  receive  a  cloak 
in  charity,  when  they  saw  its  tumultuous  quaking,  declined 
receiving  one  through  fear  of  catching  the  palsy.  But 
after  a  little  while,  when  they  saw  these  cloaks  lie  so  quiet 
when  cast  off  from  Grindall,  and  perfectly  harmless  to 
the  wearer,  the  few  remaining  cloaks  became  popular,  al- 
though the  last  of  them  trembled  the  most  and  danced 
the  longest. 

The  Canadian  traveller  on  his  return  remembered  his 
promise,  and  stopped  to  greet  Grindall,  who  had  just 
shaken  off  his  last  cloak.  Grindall  regarded  him  with  a 
feeling  of  awful  respect.  He  stood  silent,  but  the  traveller 
heard  Grindall's  heart  speak.  "Your  looks,  Mr.  Grindall, 
have  told  me  all.  You  have  found  the  remedy.  You  now 
know  how  to  keep  yourself  warm  in  the  coldest  weather ; 
but  in  order  to  keep  yourself  constantly  warm,  you  must 


96        THE  MAN  WITH  THE  CLOAKS. 

have  a  constantly  warm  heart.  None  of  your  sudden  im- 
pulses, warm  to-day  and  cold  to-morrow.  Most  men  are 
governed  by  impulses,  and  they  endeavor  to  offset  against 
habitual  coldness,  a  single  warm  impulse.  There  is  little 
merit  in  that.  The  rattlesnake  is  poisonous,  although 
it  may  show  you  many  golden  specks  scattered  over  its 
back.  In  short,  Mr.  Grindall,  if  you  desire  never  to  want 
another  cloak,  keep  a  warm  heart."  Grindall  followed 
this  advice,  and  before  he  died  became  a  proverb.  "  As 
good  as  old  Grindall,"  is  still  current  west  of  the  Green 
Mountains. 


SOME   ACCOUNT   OF   THE   SUFFERINGS   OF 
A   COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER. 


SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  SUFFERINGS  OF  A 
COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER. 


YE  happy  beings  of  tranquil  stomach,  who  sleep  on 
beds  of  down,  feed  heartily,  and  fear  nothing  but 
the  nightmare, — ye  who  are  fondly  looking  for  a  passage 
through  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  in  prospect  of  the  turtle  of 
the  Galapagos  Islands,  listen  to  the  sufferings  of  a  country 
schoolmaster. 

I  was  born  in  New  England  of  white  parents,  and 
received  my  education  at  the  University  in  Cambridge. 
Until  my  twentieth  year  I  was  a  member  of  that  sect  of 
happy  mortals  who  think  with  Mr.  Pope,  "  all  is  for  the 
best."  At  that  time  the  fatal  sisters  spun  me  a  yarn  of 
new  color,  and  caught  me  in  the  web,  which  literally 
preyed  upon  my  entrails. 

In  the  fourth  year  of  my  college  life,  ere  I  had  arrived 
at  man's  estate,  and  although  born  of  white  parents,  I  was 
at  noonday  publicly  sold  at  auction,  on  one  fatal  day  in 
March,  at  a  March  meeting,  —  to  me  the  ides  of  March ! 
On  that  day  was  I  sold  at  public  auction,  and  afterwards, 
in  tlic  month  of  December,  was  I  kidnapped  into  a  district 
school  in  the  town  of . 

The  proceedings  relative  to  me  at  March  meeting  ran 
thus,  —  "Mr.  Moderator,  I  know  as  well  as  any  man  alive 
the  advantages  of  learning;  and  as  we  have  thirty  dollars 


100   SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

ia  the  treasury,  I  vote  that  we  spend  the  whole  next  win- 
ter in  giving  the  boys  a  complete  education."  "  Second  the 
motion,"  said  another,  "  and  let  us  have  a  schoolmaster  col- 
lege-learnt." It  was  put  to  vote,  and  carried  unanimously. 
"  But  who  will  board  the  master  ? "  said  one ;  "  1  will," 
said  another;  "  and  1  will,"  said  a  third  ;  "  and  I  live  near- 
est to  the  school,"  said  a  fourth.  On  this,  a  man  arose 
and  said,  "  The  master  should  be  put  up  at  auction,  and 
whoever  will  take  him  for  the  least  money,  should  have 
him."  Agreed ;  and  ten  and  sixpence,  and  ten  and  five- 
pence,  and  ten  and  fourpence,  down  to  seven  and  sixpence, 
regularly  decreasing  a  penny,  were  successively  bidden  for 
me.  I  was  knocked  down  at  seven  and  sixpence.  Nothing 
of  all  this,  at  the  time,  could  be  known  to  me  ;  and  although 
the  town  had  sacrificed  a  victim,  it  could  not  be  foreseen  on 
whom  destiny  would  fix  for  the  future  schoolmaster. 

The  month  of  December  came  ;  and  it  was  soon  known 
that  a  schoolmaster  was  wanted  for  two  months  in  the 

town  of .     Fifteen  dollars  per  month  were  no  small 

temptation  to  a  young  man  who  had  never  seen  a  bank-bill 
numbered  higher  than  five.  The  best  scholars,  all  of  them, 
refused  the  offer,  alleging  it  would  be  a  reproach  to  litera- 
ture to  teach  a  school  for  fifteen  dollars  per  month,  when 
they  could  get  as  much  for  tending  a  stable  in  Boston  ;  and 
as  horses  are  generally  more  docile  than  boys,  the  stable 
had  the  preference. 

At  length  the  proposal  was  made  to  me.  "  Fifteen  dol- 
lars per  month,"  thought  I,  "  is  very  well  to  begin  with.  If 
I  refuse,  I  shall  certainly  lose  the  money,  and  then  I  shall 
as  certainly  dream  of  it.  Now  it  is  vastly  more  pleasing  to 
dream  that  you  have  got  the  money,  than  to  dream  that 
you  have  lost  it."  Unluckily,  at  that  moment  Shakspcare 
threw  in  one  of  his  old  saws,  —  "There  is  a  tide  in  the 
affairs  of  men  "  etc.     The  town  agent,  who  was  empowered 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.    101 

to  secure  me,  saw  my  hesitation.  He  was  a  sensible,  keen- 
looking,  hard-featured  man,  as  sharp-faced  as  if  he  had 
long  been  fixed  for  a  weather-cock  at  the  North  Pole.  He 
was  dressed  quite  tidily,  and  wore  his  hair  queued  with  an 
eel  skin.  His  coat  was  more  than  square  at  the  skirts, 
much  like  a  mainsail. 

"Young  man,"  said  the  town  agent,  "do  not  think 
lightly  of  thirty  dollars.  All  things  in  this  world  proceed 
from  small  beginnings  ;  a  pint  of  acorns  in  process  of  time 
will  send  a  seventy-four  to  sea.  With  respect  to  your- 
self, learned  as  I  suppose  you  are,  you  began  with  the 
alphabet.  Franklin  tells  you  that  five  shillings  seemed  to 
him  the  nest-egg  of  all  his  future  prosperity.  If  you  are 
inclined  to  go  with  me,  the  amount  which  you  will  receive 
ought  to  encourage  you  ;  for  let  me  tell  you,  no  man  has 
ever  received  so  much  from  the  town." 

"  What  do  you  tell  me  ?  "  said  I.  "  Do  you  offer  me  the 
most  that  any  schoolmaster  ever  received  in  your  town?" 

"  We  never,  before  now,  gave  more  than  ten  dollars 
per  month." 

Here,  Alexander  the  Great  conspired  against  me.  I 
recollected  he  was  offered  the  freedom  of  a  certain  petty 
Grecian  city  :  and  when  he  snorted  at  the  offer,  they  told 
him  he  need  not  turn  up  his  nose,  for  no  stranger  except 
Hercules  had  ever  received  that  honor.  He  then  gra- 
ciously accepted  the  offer.  I  considered  it  would  be  entered 
on  record  that  I  was  the  first  schoolmaster  who  had  ever 
received  fifteen  dollars  per  month  in  the  town  of . 

"  Besides,  sir,"  said  the  town  agent,  "  money  is  not  so 
easily  obtained  as  you  young  men  imagine.  Look  at  this 
great  brick  building  that  you  inhabit,  and  consider  for  a 
moment  how  it  was  built,  from  the  first  stroke  of  the  pick- 
axe to  the  well  formed  brick  in  the  hands  of  the  mason. 
Heaven  and  earth  united  do  not  give  you  a  mouthful  of 


102     SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

bread  short  of  three  months.  Would  you  know,  young 
man,  the  real  value  of  money,  go  to  Salem." 

In  short,  the  money  tempted  me,  and  I,  in  an  evil  hour, 
was  seduced.  1  went  with  the  town  agent;  and  alter  a 
day's  journey,  passing  through  many  cross-roads,  we  ar- 
rived at  a  place  which  appeared  to  be  outlawed  from  the 
rest  of  the  world.  It  was  the  month  of  December,  and  no 
snow  had  fallen,  though  all  was  frost-bound.  At  a  dis- 
tance I  saw  a  house  in  the  midst  of  an  abrupt,  broken, 
and  mountainous  landscape.  The  herbage  far  and  wide 
was  so  sere  and  withered  that  it  was  doubtful  if  any 
future  Spring  could  refresh  it.  Such  will  be  the  deso- 
lation when  Time  with  his  scythe  shall  visit  that  place 
at  his  last  call. 

"  There,"  said  the  town  agent,  "  is  your  boarding  place," 
pointing  to  a  tottering  house,  the  top  of  which  was  covered 
with  moss,  and  shone  like  an  emerald. 

"  Heavens ! "  said  I,  "  can  you  have  a  heart  to  leave  a 
fellow-creature  in  this  desolate  place  ?  It  would  be  in  vain 
to  cry  for  help  here,  if  any  one  should  attempt  to  murder 
me." 

"  Fear  nothing,"  said  he,  "  crimes  are  unknown  here ; 
the  family  sleep  with  their  doors  and  windows  open  in 
summer." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  the  wild  beasts  will  catch  me." 

"  Fear  nothing,"  said  he ;  "  we  should  have  reason  to 
rejoice  at  the  sight  of  a  wild  beast ;  he  would  soon  take 
off  the  rust  from  our  spits." 

Saying  this,  he  dropped  me  on  an  ill-shapen  door-stone 
that  looked  as  if  it  had  grown  there,  and  disappeared  with 
a  satisfaction  he  could  ill  conceal. 

I  was  cold,  hungry,  and  sleepy,  all  which  together  gave 
me  uncommon  courage.  I  entered  the  house,  and  was 
welcomed  with  great  diffidence.     The  family  was  small, 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.     103 

consisting  of  an  elderly  man,  his  wife,  a  son  grown  to 
manhood,  and  a  daughter.  If  the  scenery  without  the  house 
was  appalling,  a  fine  lesson  was  read  to  you  within  doors. 
Here,  nothing  was  superfluous,  and  everything  within  reach. 
You  could  stand  before  the  fire  and  reach  every  article  of 
the  kitchen  establishment,  from  the  gridiron  and  warming- 
pan  down  to  the  pudding-bag  and  dripping-pan.  There 
was  no  separate  kitchen  to  the  house ;  and,  from  neces- 
sity, the  keeping-room  served  for  "  kitchen  and  parlor  and 
all."  "  How  few  things,"  thought  I,  "  will  satisfy  our 
real  wants.  Thousands  in  Boston  would  die  of  chagrin  if 
reduced  to  this  necessity ;  yet  Adam  and  Eve  lived  very 
comfortably  without  any  of  these  things." 

After  incmiring  the  number  of  my  scholars  and  the  dis- 
tance of  the  schoolhouse,  I  requested  a  morsel  of  victuals. 
The  table  was  immediately  set,  and  a  slice  of  bread  and  a 
slice  of  cheese,  with  a  pewter  pot  of  cider  were  presented 
to  me.  The  cheese  was  beautifully  white,  —  it  looked  ex- 
actly like  Stilton  cheese ;  but  to  the  taste  it  was  quite  dif- 
ferent. I  have  since  heard  the  same  sort  of  cheese  called 
white  oak.  The  bread  was  sweet  enough,  but  rather  too 
solid  ;  the  knife  cut  as  smoothly  through  it  as  it  would 
through  the  cheese-like  clay  near  Hartford  Asylum.  The 
cider  was  as  clear  as  a  rivulet,  and  would  have  been  excel- 
lent had  it  tasted  of  the  apple.  I  had  resolved  to  conform 
to  the  family,  and  render  myself  agreeable  ;  therefore  lest 
they  might  think  me  delicate  in  my  diet,  I  ate  up  all  on 
the  table. 

Immediately  after  supper  I  was  shown  upstairs  to  my 
bed-chamber,  where  I  fortunately  found  a  bed  and  one 
chair.  There  was  only  one  superfluous  thing  in  the  room, 
—  a  fireplace;  but  there  were  no  tongs  nor  shovel  nor 
andirons,  nor  any  signs  that  a  wreath  of  smoke  had  ever 
passed  up  chimney.     But  to  a  weary  man  sleep  is  sleep, 


104     SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

whether  on  down  or  straw.  Nature  was  always  a  leveller 
between  bedtime  and  uprising. 

In  the  morning  I  began  my  daily  labors.  The  school- 
house  was  nearly  a  mile  from  my  abode  in  a  northwesterly 
direction ;  but  nothing  is  better  than  exercise  for  a  school- 
master. From  the  appearance  of  the  surrounding  country, 
I  anticipated  an  easy  task,  especially  when  I  saw  the 
schoolhousc,  which  appeared  like  a  martin-box  at  a  short 
distance.  I  was  quickly  undeceived ;  although  the  school- 
house  was  very  small,  it  was  full  within,  and  surrounded 
without.  Whether  it  was  the  novelty  of  a  "  college-learnt " 
schoolmaster,  or  a  laudable  desire  of  obtaining  a  good 
pennyworth  of  learning,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  certain  it  is, 
the  building  could  not  contain  one  half  of  the  scholars. 
Whence  they  all  came  I  could  not  imagine  ,  the  surround- 
ing country  gave  no  sign  of  animal  life.  I  should  as  soon 
have  thought  of  opening  a  school  six  weeks  after  the  flood 
as  in  that  place.  In  this  perplexity  1  thought  it  most  rea- 
sonable to  fill  the  schoolhouse  with  the  most  ignorant,  and 
dismiss  the  rest.  Accordingly,  after  a  short  examination  I 
retained  about  fifty,  and  sent  as  many  home.  This  plan 
was  considered  by  many  very  judicious,  and  rendered 
me  popular.  But  alas !  I  soon  found  that  popularity 
would  not  fill  an  empty  stomach.  From  the  first  day  I 
perceived  I  was  at  board  on  speculation,  and  that  I  was 
limited  to  less  than  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents'  worth 
of  food  per  week.  To  sit  down  to  one's  dinner  with  an 
appetite  is  agreeable,  but  to  rise  from  table  with  all  the 
pangs  of  devouring  hunger  would  excite  the  pity  of  Tan- 
talus. The  ancients  could  invent  nothing  worse  than  to 
show  a  hungry  man  a  good  dinner  and  deny  him  a  taste ; 
I  think  I  could  have  added  to  the  misery  of  Tantalus, — 
I  would  occasionally  have  given  him  a  taste. 

The  pangs  of  hunger   began  now  to  assail   me.     The 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.     105 

increasing  cold,  and  the  daily  exercise  of  travelling  four 
miles  to  and  from  school,  soon  gave  me  a  voracious  ap- 
petite ;  and  as  the  good  people  with  whom  I  lived  had 
taken  me  upon  speculation,  I  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  close 
calculation.  Thrice  a  day  my  host  gauged  that  part  of 
man  which  requires  food,  and  as  he  always  reckoned  with- 
out me,  lie  made  no  allowance  for  my  wants.  Within  two 
days  after  my  arrival  my  head  became  sorely  affected ;  I 
felt  drowsy  in  the  forenoon  soon  after  breakfast.  This  I 
immediately  attributed  to  the  right  cause.  Instead  of  real 
coffee,  I  discovered  that  I  had  been  drinking  the  decoction 
of  a  noxious  drug,  the  grain  of  which  has  been  known  to 
kill  horses  and  oxen, — I  mean  rye  coffee,  so  fatal  to  the 
intellects  of  the  sedentary  and  studious.  I  complained 
that  rye  was  injurious  to  my  head,  and  requested  I  might, 
instead  thereof,  have  tea.  But  alas,  there  was  no  tea  in 
the  house ;  they  said  they  had  conceived  a  prejudice  against 
tea  ever  since  the  Revolution.  My  next  request  was  a  bowl 
of  milk  — but  alas,  the  cow  was  dry  ! 

In  a  few  days  all  the  luxuries  with  which  the  house  was 
stored  at  my  coming  were  exhausted.  The  cheese,  the 
butter,  the  flour  disappeared.  Fresh  meat  there  was  none  ; 
no  beef-cart  was  ever  seen  in  that  precinct.  I  began  to 
fear  for  the  pork  barrel.  That  bread  which  at  first,  in  the 
wantonness  of  my  appetite,  I  compared  to  Hartford  clay, 
was  now  more  delicious  than  the  first  bread-cake  of  the 
Pilgrims.  One  day  as  I  sat  down  to  dinner,  foreseeing 
that  should  I  eat  all  on  the  table  I  should  rise  with  an 
increased  appetite,  I  fainted  at  the  recollection  of  an  inci- 
dent which  had  occurred  to  me  ten  years  before.  When  a 
boy,  I  passed  through  the  town  of  Lynn,  in  the  county  of 
Essex,  on  my  way  to  Exeter,  in  the  stage.  Just  opposite 
the  residence  of  Mrs.  Mary  Pitcher,  the  stage  broke  down  ; 
the  whifTletree   parted,  the   braces  snapped   asunder,  and 


10G     SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER. 

there  seemed  to  be  a  sudden  and  unaccountable  wreck 
of  everything,  but  no  one  was  injured.  The  passengers, 
one  and  all,  exclaimed  that  it  was  done  by  witchcraft.  "  It 
is  quite  likely,"  said  the  stage-driver,  "  for  there  stands 
Mrs.  Pitcher  at  her  door,  with  her  cup  in  her  hand."  The 
passengers  beckoned  to  her,  and  she  came  out  to  see  them, 
evidently  pleased — as  I  suppose  witches  always  are  —  at 
the  accomplishment  of  their  purposes.  However,  as  it  is 
always  best  to  bespeak  the  good-will  of  a  witch,  the  passen- 
gers treated  Mrs.  Pitcher  with  great  courtesy,  and  gave  her 
some  money.  She  examined  the  faces  of  all  of  us,  and  for 
the  most  part  made  flattering  comments  ;  but  when  she 
laid  her  piercing  black  eyes  on  me  she  stood  considering  a 
moment,  then  clapped  me  on  the  head  and  buried  her  hand 
in  my  flaxen  hair,  and  gently  shook  me,  saying,  "  You  are 
a  very  likely  boy,  Johnny,  but  I  fear  you  will  one  day  die 
of  hunger."  The  sudden  recollection  of  Mrs.  Pitcher's 
prophecy  gave  me  such  an  "ill  turn"  that  the  family  ob- 
served it,  and  asked  me  if  I  was  indisposed.  I  told  them  I 
felt  rather  faint.  They  immediately  insisted  on  my  empty- 
ing the  vinegar-cruet,  telling  me  that  vinegar  was  the 
"  sovereigncst  thing  on  earth  "  for  a  fainting  fit. 

To  one  who  has  never  palled  his  appetite  in  a  pastry 
shop,  and  whose  Spartan  diet  only  rendered  hunger  more 
keen,  the  idle  ceremony  of  daily  holding  a  knife  and  fork 
tended  only  to  increase  the  desire  to  eat.  By  degrees  the 
cravings  of  hunger  changed  my  nature,  and  took  absolute 
possession  of  my  imagination.  One  day  the  whole  dinner 
consisted  of  one  dumpling,  which  they  called  a  pudding, 
and  five  sausages,  which  in  cooking  shrunk  to  pipe-stems. 
There  were  five  of  us  at  table.  My  portion  of  pudding 
was  put  on  my  plate ;  I  swallowed  thrice,  and  it  disap- 
peared. My  one  sausage  was  put  on  my  plate;  I  swallowed 
twice,  and  my  dinner  was  ended.    I  rose  from  table,  deeply 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A   COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER.     107 

impressed  with  the  beauty  of  that  passage  in  Job:  Be- 
hold now  Behemoth  ;  he  eateth  grass  as  an  ox  ;  he  drinketh 
up  a  river;  he  trusteth  he  can  draw  up  Jordan  into  his 
mouth.  So  I,  in  my  imagination,  thought  I  could  devour 
whole  hecatombs.  I  fancied  a  roast  pig  would  be  but  a 
mouthful.  A  knife  and  fork  seemed  the  most  useless  things 
in  the  world.  With  the  two  legs  of  a  turkey  in  each  hand 
I  made  a  lantern  of  the  carcass  in  a  moment ;  chickens  and 
partridges  I  swallowed  whole.  If  the  globe  had  been  a 
pasty, I  thought  I  could  have  swallowed  it,  Captain  Symmea 
and  all.  Thus  would  my  distempered  fancy  prepare  the 
greatest  delicacies ;  so  that  I  often  detected  myself  in  the 
act  of  working  my  jaws  as  though  I  were  actually  eating 
substantial  food. 

I  had  recently  read  Riley's-"  Narrative  "  of  his  suffer- 
ings in  Africa,  and  was  at  the  time  sensibly  affected. 
Now  I  began  to  laugh  at  Riley  and  his  companions,  and 
wished  myself  one  of  the  company.  Any  man  may  easily 
imagine  that  the  sense  of  hunger  is  far  more  keen  and 
devouring  on  the  hills  of  New  England  in  the  winter  than 
in  the  soft  climate  of  Arabia,  where,  if  a  man  can  once  in 
twenty-four  hours  swallow  a  pint  of  camel's  milk,  he  is 
perfectly  happy. 

As  my  sufferings  became  daily  more  and  more  dreadful, 
1  was  put  upon  my  wits  ;  and  as  necessity  is  the  mother  of 
invention,  one  half  of  that  time  which  I  ought  to  have  de- 
voted to  my  school  was  employed  in  devising  means  of 
preserving  my  life.  And  here,  in  justification  of  myself,  I 
ought  to  observe  that  a  man  consumed  by  hunger  becomes 
by  degrees  destitute  of  all  moral  principle.  There  was  at 
school  one  little  round-faced,  chubby,  fat  fellow  of  about 
forty  pounds'  weight,  on  whom  I  cast  my  evil  eye;  for 
the  extremity  of  hunger  makes  cannibals  equally  of  the 
civilized  and  the  savage.     The  Jewish  mother,   and   the 


108     BUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

recent  experience  of  the  French  army  in  their  retreat  from 
Russia  arc  examples  of  this.  But  fortunately  a  better  mor- 
sel was  soon  thrown  in  my  way.  Some  of  the  schoolboys 
had  discovered  and  killed  a  skunk,  and  had  left  it  near  the 
schoolhouse.  When  I  had  dismissed  the  scholars,  I  seized 
upon  my  prey  and  returned  to  the  schoolroom.  With  the 
help  of  my  penknife  I  quickly  stripped  off  the  skin,  and  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  fresh  meat.  I  laid  the  tongs  and 
shovel  across  the  andirons,  and  placed  the  creature  over  a 
bed  of  coals.  I  broiled  it  about  fifteen  minutes  ;  and  when 
I  supposed  it  sufficiently  cooked,  I  cut  it  in  halves,  meaning 
to  eat  one  half,  and  hide  the  other  in  the  woods  for  an- 
other repast.  But  my  appetite  was  sovereign  ;  after  I  had 
eaten  the  one  half,  so  delicious  was  the  morsel  I  could  not 
restrain  the  call  for  more,  and  I  devoured  the  whole.  That 
was  a  bright  and  happy  day ;  but  my  hunger  soon  returned. 
Wild  meat  is  not  so  substantial  food  as  the  stalled  ox. 

A  few  days  afterward,  being  faint  and  weary  on  my  re- 
turn from  school,  my  eyes  were  delighted  at  the  sight  of 
an  animal  I  had  never  before  seen.  It  was  a  raccoon  which 
the  young  man  Jonathan  had  taken  or  rather  overtaken, 
for  he  caught  it  with  the  help  of  his  hands  and  feet.  So 
the  observation  of  the  town  agent,  "  If  a  wild  beast  should 
be  detected  in  these  parts,  he  would  soon  take  off  the  rust 
from  the  spit,"  was  true.  As  soon  as  the  raccoon  was 
discovered  the  young  man  gave  chase.  The  creature 
after  some  time  ran  under  a  rock  for  protection,  whence 
he  was  soon  ferreted,  and  a  well-aimed  stone  entirely  dis- 
abled him.  He  was  brought  home  in  triumph;  and  when 
skinned,  he  seemed  to  be  one  entire  mass  of  fatness,  of  a 
most  delicate  whiteness.  I  was  overjoyed  ;  and  both  the 
cat  and  the  dog  leaped  for  joy.  The  dog  in  particular  was 
transported.  When  he  looked  steadily  at  the  raccoon  the 
water  ran  from  his  mouth  in  a  stream.     It  was  in  truth 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.     109 

an  equal  temptation  either  to  an  epicure  or  to  a  man  per- 
ishing with  hunger.  If  Vitellius  and  Albums  had  lived  in 
the  same  age,  they  would  more  readily  have  fought  for  that 
raccoon  than  for  the  Roman  empire.  I  retired  to  bed,  as 
was  my  custom,  as  early  as  I  could  with  decency  ;  for  I 
soon  learned  that  all  the  time  I  could  pass  in  sleep  was 
clear  gain  to  my  stomach.  But  sleep  for  a  long  time 
fled  before  a  beautiful  apparition  in  the  form  of  the  rac- 
coon. At  length  I  fell  into  a  slumber ;  and  oh,  had  I 
been  a  Mussulman  1  should  have  wished  never  to  awake. 
I  seemed  to  see  the  raccoon  suspended  on  a  hook,  and 
hanging  majestically  before  the  fire,  perspiring  most  beau- 
tifully into  the  dripping-pan.  The  raccoon  roasting  in  this 
manner  showed  to  far  greater  advantage  than  if  he  had 
been  run  through  with  a  spit.  I  eagerly  watched  it  all  the 
time  it  was  roasting ;  the  flavor  of  it  was  ravishing,  —  no 
heathen  god  ever  smelt  such  an  incense.  At  length  I  saw 
it  placed  before  me  on  the  table  ;  and  I  seemed  to  have  the 
whole  raccoon  within  reach  of  my  knife  and  fork,  and 
most  uncourteously  I  seized  upon  the  whole  for  myself. 
Yet,  however  impolite  this  may  appear,  it  was  quite  natural ; 
for  I  know  by  experience  that  excessive  hunger  is  exces- 
sively selfish.  Steak  after  steak,  slice  after  slice,  collop 
after  collop  I  carved  from  the  raccoon ;  and  when  I  could 
cut  no  more,  I  took  every  bone  from  its  socket,  and  as 
though  my  appetite  increased  by  the  meat  I  fed  on,  I 
seized  those  bones  and  polished  every  one  of  them  to 
the  smoothness  of  ivory.  When  I  had  eaten  all  the 
meat,  I  awoke  ;  and  such  had  been  the  deceit  practised 
on  my  senses,  that  after  I  was  satisfied  it  was  all  a  dream, 
I  could  not  keep  my  jaws  still,  so  inveteratcly  were  they 
bent  on  eating.  However,  as  there  is  no  good  in  this 
world  without  its  evil,  so  there  is  no  evil  without  its  good. 
I  readily  consoled  myself  in  anticipation  of  the  real  rac- 


110     SUFFERINGS  OF  A   COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER. 

coon,  which  the  coming  morrow  would  place  in  reality  on 
a  real  table. 

Long  before  daylight  I  heard  the  family  stirring ;  and 
the  alacrity  of  their  footsteps,  and  the  repeated  opening  and 
shutting  of  doora,  all  gave  assurance  of  the  coming  holiday. 
I  arose  and  loosened  the  strap  which  after  the  Indian 
manner  1  had  buckled  around  my  body  in  order  to  pacify 
the  corrosions  of  hunger.  This  I  recommend  to  all  wlro 
may  hereafter  fall  into  my  distress.  A  leathern  belt  with 
a  buckle,  drawn  tight  around  the  waist,  will  be  of  great 
service  ;  for  the  more  you  can  contract  the  stomach,  the 
little  mill  within,  which  is  always  grinding,  will  have  the 
less  room  to  play. 

I  was  soon  ready  for  breakfast,  and  when  seated  at 
table  I  observed  the  place  of  Jonathan  vacant.  "  "Where  is 
Jonathan  ?  "  said  I.  "  Gone  to  market,"  said  they.  "  Mar- 
ket !  what  market,  pray  ?  I  did  not  know  there  was  any 
market  in  these  parts."     "  Oh,  yes,"  said  they,  "  he  is  gone 

to  — ,  about  thirty  miles   to  the  southward  of   us." 

"  And  what  has  called  him  up  so  early  to  go  to  market  ? " 
"  He  is  gone,"  said  they,  "  to  sell  his  raccoon."  I  should 
have  fainted  again,  but  the  dread  of  vinegar  preserved  my 
senses.  I  now  resigned  myself  to  my  fate,  and  patiently 
awaited  the  accomplishment  of  Mrs.  Pitcher's  prediction. 

"  I  am  doomed,"  thought  I,  "  to  a  strange  destiny.  If  I 
perish  here  I  shall  die  ingloriously  and  unpitied.  If  I  ab- 
scond, I  shall  lose  my  honor,  and  the  story  of  my  sufferings 
will  never  be  credited.  There  would  be  some  satisfaction  in 
being  drowned  or  assassinated,  or  in  perishing  with  hun- 
ger in  a  noble  attempt  to  discover  the  source  of  the  Nile, 
or  in  exploring  the  outlet  of  the  Niger;  but  to  perish  here 
in  the  woods,  —  perhaps  in  a  snowdrift,  where  I  may  lie 
till  spring,  if  the  birds  of  prey  do  not  find  me, —  is  fearfully 
depressing."     I  then  turned  my  thoughts  wistfully  to  the 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.  HI 

seaboard  ;  and  no  landscape  was  ever  so  pleasing  to  Claude, 
as  the  recollection  of  the  clam-banks  at  low  water,  on  the 
seashore,  was  to  me.  IIow  happy  should  I  be  if  I  could  steal 
away  in  the  night  and  watch  the  ebbing  tide,  and  enjoy  a 
feast  of  shells !  I  then  compared  my  situation  with  that 
of  the  first  settlers  of  New  England,  and  thought  they  had 
a  great  advantage  over  me.  When  the  winter  drove  the 
fishes  into  deep  water,  they  could  always  get  a  discount  at 
their  banks ;  clams  in  abundance,  and  even  the  more  deli- 
cious quahaug  could  always  be  had  at  bank  hours. 

In  going  to  school  that  morning,  I  perceived  a  large 
flock  of  crows.  It  was  a  dark,  bitter-cold  morning ;  and 
the  crows  hovered  over  and  scaled  around  my  head.  "  Ah," 
thought  I, "  sagacious  birds,  do  you  foresee  that  my  strength 
will  soon  fail,  and  that  I  shall  fall  a  prey  to  you  ?  Oh, 
that  the  severity  of  the  cold  would  freeze  some  of  your 
wings  that  you  might  become  a  prey  to  me."  Then,  half 
delirious,  my  imagination  carried  me  to  the  first  inhabi- 
tants of  Charlestown.  Happy  people!  Instead  of  the  crows 
coming  after  them,  wild  geese  in  a  time  of  famine  were 
ready  to  fly  down  their  chimneys  on  to  their  roasting-hooks. 
Those  worthy  people  had  appointed  a  thanksgiving,  which 
threatened  to  change  itself  into  a  fast.  The  night  preced- 
ing the  day  of  thanksgiving  was  intensely  cold ;  and  while 
an  immense  flock  of  wild  geese  were  pursuing  their  way  to 
the  South,  the  frost  suddenly  seized  their  wings,  arrested 
their  progress,  and  they  all  fell  down  into  Charlestown 
Square.  Every  family  not  only  filled  their  bellies  the  whole 
winter,  but  also  filled  their  beds  with  down.  Whereas,  I 
was  reduced  to  the  extremity  that  a  crow  a  hundred  years 
old  would  have  been  to  me  the  richest  treasure. 

The  next  day  beheld  the  earth  covered  with  a  deep  snow. 
My  fears  now  multiplied  upon  me.  "This  snow,"  thought 
I,  "  will  be  my  winding-sheet ;  I  can  never  in  my  present 


112     SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

weakness  force  my  way  through  these  snowdrifts.  I  shall 
perish  with  a  double  starvation,  —  with  both  cold  and  hun- 
ger. But  courage,  courage  ! "  said  I.  Hope  often  lingers 
after  the  footsteps  of  despair ;  and  help  came  even  when 
hope  was  gone.  In  fact,  that  day  proved  to  me  the  happiest 
day  in  the  calendar  of  that  year.  I  succeeded  in  gaining  the 
schoolhouse  after  travelling  double  the  distance  ;  for  1  was 
so  weak  that  in  balancing  myself  I  would  frequently  retreat 
two  steps  backward,  and  then  in  rescuing  one  leg  from  a 
snowpit,  I  would  lose  my  balance  and  stagger  in  a  semi- 
circle. It  is  really  incredible  how  much  a  man  can  endure 
in  a  good  cause.  But  I  hasten  to  describe  the  most  happy 
occurrence  of  my  life.  On  my  return  from  school,  at  the 
moment  when  one  leg  was  about  refusing  to  follow  the 
other,  and  the  belt  which  I  had  loosened  the  day  before  in 
expectation  of  the  raccoon,  had  just  fallen  down  and  was 
resting  on  my  hips,  I  saw  at  a  distance  an  object  partly 
buried  in  a  snowdrift,  which  appeared  to  be  a  living  animal. 
Had  it  been  the  Nemcan  lion  I  would  have  attacked  it 
with  no  other  weapon  than  my  penknife.  On  approaching 
the  creature  I  perceived  it  was  a  cow.  Instantly  I  resolved 
to  have  a  steak.  I  had  just  read  Bruce's  travels  in  Abys- 
sinia, and  he  had  taught  me  the  art  of  cutting  a  steak  from  a 
living  cow  in  the  real  oriental  style.  On  examination  I  per- 
ceived she  was  a  new  milch  cow,  and  carried  not  less  than  a 
pail  of  milk  in  her  bag.  I  preferred  the  milk  to  the  meat, 
and  did  not  mangle  the  cow.  How  to  get  at  the  milk  was 
the  thought  only  of  a  moment.  I  perceived  the  top  of  a 
stone  wall  at  a  little  distance,  which  the  late  snow-storm 
had  not  quite  covered.  Now,  hunger  will  as  readily  leap 
over  as  break  through  a  stone  wall.  I  succeeded  in  forcing 
the  cow  to  straddle  the  stone  wall.  In  that  situation  she 
was  as  quiet  as  at  her  own  stanchion.  I  cleared  away  the 
snow  and  laid  myself  down  in  the  form  of  the  letter  Y  on 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.  113 

my  back  between  the  cow's  legs,  and  she  was  milked  in  less 
time  than  a  cow  was  ever  milked  before.  While  draining 
the  cow,  my  licit  soon  began  to  tighten,  and  became  painful ; 
but  my  handy  penknife  quickly  cut  it  asunder.  When  I 
had  drained  the  last  drop,  I  threw  down  the  wall  and  let 
the  cow  go.  If  a  pint  is  a  pound,  I  arose  sixteen  pounds 
heavier ;  yet  I  felt  no  ill  consequence  from  that  copious 
draught ;  it  lay  in  my  stomach  like  a  poultice. 

The  timely  succor  of  the  cow  sustained  me  several  days  ; 
so  that  I  began  to  bid  defiance  to  the  crows.  I  lived  in 
hope  of  meeting  with  that  beautiful  cow  again ;  but  unhap- 
pily I  never  saw  her  more. 

The  pains  of  hunger  began  again  to  consume  me. 
Strange  fancies  haunted  me  in  my  sleep ;  I  rambled 
through  the  country,  milking  in  my  own  way  every  cow 
I  met,  and  hamstringing  every  ox,  and  cutting  steaks  from 
them.  So  jealous  did  I  become,  that  I  often  questioned 
myself  in  my  sleep,  and  argued  the  point  whether  I  was 
really  eating  or  dreaming.  Once  in  particular,  I  well  re- 
member that  I  insisted  I  was  eating  a  beefsteak,  and  held 
it  up  on  my  fork,  and  said,  "  This  is  real  beef,  this  can- 
not be  a  dream  —  I  am  certain  I  am  eating  an  excel- 
lent beefsteak,  I  cannot  be  dreaming  now ;  so  inveterate 
and  persisting,  busy  and  alert  is  excessive  hunger.  It 
haunts  you  by  night  and  by  day,  awake  and  asleep.  But 
happily  though  the  sense  of  hunger  is  most  ferocious,  it 
is  not  inclined  to  despair.  Had  you  hung  a  sirloin  of  beef 
on  one  horn  of  the  moon,  my  hunger  would  have  hoped 
to  reach  it. 

Winn  I  became  reduced  a  second  time,  so  low  that  my 
belt  was  lost  between  my  ribs,  I  was  relieved  by  a  happy 
mistake.  Instead  of  the  snuff  of  a  candle  which  was  usu- 
ally handed  to  light  me  to  bed,  I  found  the  candlestick 
adorned  with  more  than  half  of  a  tallow  candle.     I  cut  the 


114      SUPPEEINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

candle  into  four  pieces,  ate  the  tallow,  ami  reserved  the 
wicks  for  the  last  extremity.  Before  1  fell  asleep,  1  fancied 
I  felt  something  stirring  the  bedclothes.  It  was  a  rat 
cautiously  climbing  up  the  bed-rug.  On  any  other  occa- 
sion this  would  have  been  an  unpleasant  visitor  —  but  in- 
stantly 1  saw  my  advantage.  I  feigned  a  sound  Bleep,  lay 
quiet,  and  set  my  trap.  For  a  starving  man  —  I  appeal  to 
France  —  cannot  distinguish  between  a  rat  and  a  squirrel. 
I  opened  my  mouth  uncommonly  wide,  nearly  from  ear  to 
ear.  The  hungry  rat,  attracted  by  the  smell  of  the  tallow, 
the  perfume  of  which  had  not  evaporated  from  my  lips, 
softly  approached  my  mouth,  and  began  to  lick  the  rem- 
nant, if  any  remnant  there  was,  of  the  tallow.  I  am  con- 
vinced the  rat  was  as  hungry  as  I  was,  and  from  his  gen- 
tle movements,  I  am  satisfied  he  designed  me  no  harm ; 
therefore  I  have  ever  since  felt  a  regret  at  the  foul  trick  I 
played  him.  When  the  rat  had  tenderly  passed  over  my 
upper,  he  began  with  my  under  lip ;  and  when  he  was  about 
midway,  directly  under  my  nose,  I  made  a  sudden  snap, 
took  his  whole  head  into  my  mouth,  and  strangled  him 
between  my  teeth.  When  the  rat  was  quiet,  I  dropped 
him  on  the  floor  and  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning  the  candle  was  missing,  and  on  be- 
ing questioned,  I  replied  with  great  truth  I  had  no  doubt  it 
was  eaten,  as  I  had  seen  a  rat  in  the  room. 

I  now  began  to  think  I  might  probably  survive  to  the 
end  of  my  engagement,  as  it  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
I  had  four  candlewicks,  well  saturated,  and  a  large  rat 
safely  deposited  in  my  trunk. 

At  this  time  a  strange  sight  appeared  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. A  man  with  a  load  of  pork,  bound  for  Boston,  had 
lost  his  way.  He  came  up  to  our  door  to  ask  for  direc- 
tions. I  detained  him  as  long  as  I  possibly  could,  for 
the  sake  of  beholding  the  charming  swine.     My  stomach 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A   COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER.      H5 

dilated  at  the  sight,  and  my  teeth  began  to  move.  As  the 
man  and  team  moved  off,  I  discovered  for  the  first  time 
that  I  was  a  ventriloquist.  There  came  an  audible,  dis- 
tinct voice  from  the  lower  region  of  my  stomach,  saying, 
••  It  is  suicide  to  die  of  hunger,  when  food  is  placed  before 
your  eyes.  Fly  !  cut  a  collop."  "  Cut,"  said  I,  "  thou  shalt 
not  steal.''  The  voice  replied,  ••  That  law  was  not  made 
for  an  empty  stomach."  I  rejoined,  "  The  law  has  made 
no  exception."  "  Fool,"  said  the  voice,  "  had  you  rather 
eat  a  rat  than  a  pork-steak?"  I  confess  I  was  not  entirely 
convinced ;  however,  I  followed  after  the  team,  and  slyly 
slid  behind  it,  and,  whether  feloniously  or  justifiably  the 
Supreme  Court  can  determine,  with  my  penknife  I  cut 
two  as  handsome  steaks  as  Eumteus  cut  from  the  two 
porkers  with  which  he  regaled  Ulysses.  Oh,  the  beau- 
tiful steaks  of  red  and  white  !  I  see  them  even  now  in 
all  their  allurement.  I  put  my  booty  in  my  pocket,  and 
hastened  to  deposit  it  in  my  trunk.  Never  did  time 
linger  so  lazily  ;  the  sun  appeared  to  me  to  be  travelling  to 
the  east,  so  impatient  was  I  for  night,  in  order  to  taste  of 
my  dainty  ;  for  it  was  now  more  than  six  weeks  since  I 
had  had  a  smack  at  fresh  meat,  except  that  which  I  had 
eaten  at  the  schoolroom.  Bedtime  at  length  arrived,  and  I 
retired,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  the  most  delightful  contem- 
plations. I  cut  those  steaks  latitudinally,  and  longitudi- 
nally into  more  sections  than  you  find  marked  on  the 
terrestrial  globe.  Nothing  in  the  world  appeared  to  me  so 
captivating  as  pork-steaks.  Had  I  been  a  calico-painter  or 
paper-stainer,  the  only  figures  would  have  been  pork-steaks. 
When  all  was  quiet,  I  arose,  opened  my  trunk,  took  out 
my  steaks,  softly  descended  to  the  kitchen,  raked  open  the 
coals,  rubbed  the  rust  off  the  gridiron,  placed  my  steaks 
thereon,  and  soon  began  to  snuff  the  delicious  flavor.  The 
dog  who  was  outside  of  the  house,  no  less  quick-scented,  im- 


116     SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

mediately  began  to  bark.  For  fear  of  disturbing  the  family 
i  opened  the  door,  and  let  him  in  ;  but  alas,  before  1  could 
shut  the  door,  he  flew  at  the  steaks,  seized  one  in  his 
mouth,  and  although  1  seized  him  by  the  neck  with  one 
hand,  and  thrust  the  other  into  his  mouth,  at  one  gulp  he 
swallowed  the  whole.  While  I  was  contending  with  the 
dog,  the  cat  seized  the  other  steak  and  lied  up-chamber. 

Many  a  man  has  succumbed  at  a  less  disappointment 
than  this.  "  But,  courage ! "  said  I ;  "do  not  despair, 
you  have  still  a  rat  and  four  candlewicks."  I  retired  to 
lied,  and  soon  began  to  dream  of  my  steaks;  and  when 
I  had  eaten  them,  awoke,  and  found  my  lips  moving 
as   usual. 

The  next  morning  discovered  a  trait  in  natural  history, 
which  I  will  here  notice,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  curious. 
The  dog  appeared  to  be  sensible  he  had  wronged  me.  No 
soothing  could  induce  him  to  look  me  in  the  face.  He  lost 
his  animation,  curled  his  tail  between  his  legs,,  and  hung 
his  head  down  to  his  feet.  The  next  day  the  dog  ab- 
sconded. At  first  I  attributed  this  to  his  sense  of  honor, 
then  to  his  sagacity ;  he  had  obtained  one  taste  of  fresh 
meat,  and  was  no  longer  a  domestic  animal ;  but  I  was 
in  part  deceived,  as  will  quickly  appear. 

I  was  now  reduced  again  to  great  extremity,  but  was 
unwilling  to  depredate  on  the  treasure  in  my  trunk,  for  I 
had  still  a  week  more  to  suffer.  However,  on  retiring  to 
rest  that  night,  I  determined  in  the  morning  to  eat  two 
candlewicks,  and  carry  the  rat  to  school  and  cook  it  in  the 
intermission.  Soon  as  I  awoke  and  could  distinctly  see,  my 
wistful  eyes  turned  to  my  trunk.  I  partly  arose,  my  eyes 
still  fixed  on  my  trunk,  and  to  my  sorrow,  I  saw  a  mouse 
leisurely  go  down  the  side.  Miserable  wretch  !  on  taking 
the  steaks  from  the  trunk,  I  had  carelessly  suffered  the 
clasp  of  the  lock  to  rest  on  the  ridge  of  it,  and  left  ample 


SUFFERINGS   OF  A  COUNTRY   SCHOOLMASTER.      117 

room  for  a  mouse  and  a  cat's  paw  to  plunder  me.  Both 
the  rat  and  eandlewieks  were  gone! 

Now,  indeed,  for  the  first  time,  my  spirits  began  to  fail 
me.  The  remembrance  of  the  Lynn  lady's  expression  came 
over  me  with  a  fearful  foreboding.  I  hesitated  for  a  moment 
to  go  to  school.  But  as  it  was  a  beautiful,  bright  morning, 
my  official  duty  urged  me  on  ;  and  with  a  heart  heavier 
than  all  the  rest  of  my  body,  I  pursued  my  way  through 
the  pathless  snowdrifts.  The  crows,  my  former  visitors, 
with  a  numerous  recruit  hovered  over  my  head,  uttering  omi- 
nous language.  Instead  of  "  caw,  caw,"  they  seemed  to  me 
to  say,  ••  We  arc  come."  At  this  moment,  a  whirl  of  snow 
nearly  engulfed  me.  My  bones  trembled  in  their  sockets  : 
the  north  wind  pierced  me  through,  and  shook  every  fibre 
of  my  body.  My  right  leg  faltered  and  sunk  into  a  snow- 
pit,  and  my  left  leg  refused  to  help  it  out.  My  danger 
was  imminent ;  for  although  I  had  sufficient  strength, 
perhaps,  to  fight  off  a  crow,  an  eagle  or  a  vulture  in  my 
emaciated  state  could  have  borne  me  off  an  unresisting 
victim.  At  that  moment  had  an  umbrella  been  at  my 
command,  I  should  have  tied  myself  to  the  stick  and  took 
my  chance  to  other  regions.  But,  joy  !  The  spirit  of  hun- 
ger again  burst  fortli  in  ventriloquism.  "  See  the  dog  with 
a  rabbit!"  exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  lower  regions  of 
my  stomach.  It  was  true  —  the  noble  animal  came  up  to 
me,  bold  as  a  lion,  his  eyes  glistening  through  tears,  his 
tail  lashing  each  side  of  his  hams ;  he  laid  a  prodigious 
large  rabbit  at  my  feet.  When  the  crows  saw  this  they 
disappeared,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  them.  I  placed  the 
rabbit  in  my  bosom,  covering  it  with  my  waistcoat ;  and  I 
presume  there  was  room  for  a  dozen  more. 

This  rabbit  I  took  effectual  care  to  secure  to  myself. 
On  the  first  opportunity  I  took  off  the  skin,  cut  it  in  four 
parts,  and  put   them   in  my  pockets,  meaning  to   eat  a 


118     SUFFERINGS  OK  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER. 

quarter  part  daily.  But  let  no  hungry  man  in  future  say, 
"  Thus  much  will  I  eat,  and  no  more."  When  I  had 
broiled  and  eaten  one  fore-quarter,  I  was  more  voracious 
than  ever;  and  while  exerting  all  my  power  of  restraint, 
the  voice  below  exclaimed,  "  Treat  every  part  of  your 
stomach  alike !  "  In  short,  I  broiled  and  ate  the  hind- 
quarter;  then  the  other  fore-quarter;  and  lastly,  the  other 
hind-quarter :  yet  after  I  had  eaten  the  whole,  I  thought  I 
had  swallowed  only  the  phantom  of  a  rabbit. 

Thanks  to  the  dog,  I  was  enabled  to  linger  until  Satur- 
day, the  twenty-fifth  of  January  ;  and  then  Time  with  his 
leaden  feet  released  me  from  my  contract  with  the  town 
agent.  No  one  before  me  ever  lived  so  long  in  two 
months.  Methuselah  might  complain  of  the  shortness  of 
life,  —  not  I.  A  thousand  years  were  crowded  into  the 
period  of  sixty  days.  After  the  ceremony  of  sitting  down 
to  an  ideal  dinner  I  arose  to  depart,  left  my  trunk  behind 
me,  took  a  bundle  in  my  hand,  and  bade  the  family  a  most 
cordial  farewell.  I  was  thirty-one  miles  from  home.  Most 
fortunately  the  wind  was  in  my  favor,  and  blew  a  gallant 
breeze  ;  otherwise  I  should  never  have  reached  my  door- 
stone.  I  was  reduced  to  such  a  gossamer  that  Zephyr 
would  have  blown  me  about  at  pleasure.  As  it  was  I  made 
rapid  progress.  Had  a  field  of  wheat  covered  the  whole 
distance,  I  could  have  skimmed  over  it  without  bending  a 
blade.  But  it  was  fearful  to  hear  my  bones  clatter  as  I 
ran  along  the  road.  The  journey,  although  delightful,  was 
in  one  respect  unpleasant ;  for  my  incredible  fleetness  and 
the  large  bundle  in  my  hand  rendered  me  so  suspicious 
that  ever  and  anon  persons  cried,  "  Stop  thief !  "  Yet 
this  worried  me  not ;  the  hippogriff  could  not  have  over- 
taken me.  I  saw  nothing,  horse  or  sleigh ,  that  I  did  not 
instantly  overtake,  and  as  quickly  leave  far  behind.  In- 
deed I  knew  my  life  was  in  imminent   danger  from  two 


SUFFERINGS  OF  A  COUNTRY  SCHOOLMASTER.     119 

quarters ;  therefore  I  heeded  not  the  ventriloquist,  who 
exclaimed,  at  every  tavern  I  passed,  "  Stop,  oh,  stop !  and 
send  a  message  to  the  cavern  below."  "  No,"  said  I,  "  life 
depends  on  speed  :  I  would  not  stop  to  feast  with  an  alder- 
man." In  truth,  I  was  fearful  if  a  physician  should  see  me 
he  would  seize  me  as  a  stray  "  anatomy  ; "  and  to  render 
me  perfectly  helpless,  would  dislocate  my  arms,  pin  up  my 
tongue,  and  fasten  me  to  the  wall  of  his  dissecting-room. 
Had  I  stopped  at  a  tavern,  I  might  have  been  arrested  for 
a  mummy,  shut  up  in  a  lemon-box,  sent  to  Boston,  sold  to 
Greenwood,  placed  in  the  New-England  Museum  beside  the 
little  black  Egyptian,  and  there  exhibited  among  a  thou- 
sand notions. 

It  was  a  quarter-past  five  o'clock  when  I  reached  home. 
I  opened  the  door ;  the  family  were  at  tea  ;  before  I  could 
make  myself  known,  they  all  fled  in  consternation,  and  left 
the  tea-table  and  all  its  contents  to  me.  There  was  but 
one  who  ventured  to  examine  me,  and  she  immediately 
recognized  me  and  burst  into  tears.  In  a  few  weeks  I 
recovered  my  personal  identity,  aud  returned  to  college, 
protesting  in  favor  of  country  schoolmasters  against 
public  auctions  and  rye  coffee. 


LETTERS   FROM   LONDON. 

WRITTEN    DURING   THE   YEARS    1803-1804. 


EGa  >l;o  gratiora  dictn  alia  esse  scio ;  seil   me  vera  pro  gratis  loqui,  ets 
meum  ingenium  non  moneret,  necessitas  cogit.  —  Lnv,  bk.  iii.  6S. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


These  Letters  were  written  during  a  residence  in  Lon- 
don, and  addressed  to  a  friend  in  Massachusetts.  The 
writer  has  endeavored  to  blend  amusement  with  informa- 
tion, and  has  attempted  to  sketch  both  national  and  indi- 
vidual character,  with  occasional  outlines  of  the  state  of 
society  in  that  interesting  country.  The  frequent  allusion 
to  the  United  States  by  way  of  comparison,  while  it  adds 
variety,  he  trusts  will  take  nothing  from  the  impartiality 
of  the  work.     The  public  will  judge. 


LETTERS   FROM   LONDON. 


LETTER   I. 


London,  June  19,  1S02. 

DEAR  SIR.  —  I  have  just  arrived  in  the  land  of  our 
ancestors,  —  a  land  not  much  less  strange  to  me 
than  were  the  shores  of  New  England  to  Standish,  Carver, 
Winslow,  and  the  other  adventurers.  They  were  awfully 
impressed  with  the  grandeur  of  Nature  hefore  she  yielded 
to  cultivation.  I  am  apprehensive  I  shall  not  be  less  af- 
fected with  the  excesses  to  which  pride,  vanity,  and  am- 
bition carry  those  who,  endeavoring  to  rise  above,  sink 
far  below,  the  standard  of  Nature. 

A  descendant  of  those  ancestors  arriving  here,  might 
naturally  ask.  ••  What  invincible  prejudice,  what  inveterate 
bigotry,  or  what  pre-eminent  virtue  induced  our  forefathers 
to  leave  this  country  for  a  desert  ? "  Thank  God,  their 
posterity  know  how  to  answer  the  question  !  Three  thou- 
sand miles  and  a  desert  they  justly  thought  a  full  equiva- 
lent for  what  they  left  behind,  notwithstanding  the  maxims 
of  Europe  followed  them,  but  which  distance  in  some  de- 
gree served  to  cleanse  of  their  leprosy. 

You  may  expect,  agreeably  to  promise,  from  time  to 
time,  a  few  notices  of  those  things  which  I  may  think 
worth  presenting.  Letters  are  the  recreation  of  literature, 
and  arc  usually  written  in  nightgown  and  slippers.  We 
give  our  friends  our  looser  thoughts,  reserving  our  abilities 
for  more   important   occasions ;   but  knowing  your  taste, 


124  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

Feelings,  and  views,  I  shall  endeavor,  so  far  as  I  am  able, 
to  assume  a  shir  rather  more  elevated  than  is  frequent  in 
this  mode  of  writing,  reserving  the  liberty  of  disporting  at 
intervals  on  the  surface  of  things. 

.Men,  manners,  morals,  politics,  and  literature  will  al- 
ways afford  a  fertile  field  of  observation.  It  demands  the 
hardihood  of  personal  indifference  to  speak  present  truth, 
though  afterward  the  same  becomes  legitimate  history  ; 
but  at  the  same  time,  it  requires  the  pen  of  Tacitus  to 
make  the  proper  discrimination  between  the  people  of  two 
countries,  or  even  between  people  of  the  same  country, 
especially  in  Europe,  where  even  under  one  government 
there  arc  many  different  species  of  men.  It  would  richly 
compensate  for  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  to  observe  this 
singular  circumstance.  Indeed,  I  know  not  who  can 
travel  with  more  advantage  to  himself,  or  to  his  country, 
than  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  born  since  the  Revo- 
lution ;  for  the  moment  he  arrives  in  Europe,  the  love  of 
his  own  country  becomes  his  predominant  passion,  while 
his  mind  is  awakened  at  every  step  to  reason,  compare, 
pity,  approve,  or  condemn.  But  that  which  will  more  par- 
ticularly engage  his  attention  is  the  comparative  operation 
of  the  English  and  American  Constitutions  on  general 
happiness,  —  the  only  true  criterion  of  the  excellence  of 
every  government. 

The  few  observations  which  I  shall  make  on  the  English 
character  will  be  rather  an  incidental  than  a  definitive 
drawing.  I  shall  not  remain  here  long  enough  to  catch 
those  nice  and  frequently  complex  traits  which  mark  na- 
tional character, —  though  I  suspect  a  sign-painter  might 
hit  off  John  Bull  as  well  as  an  artist  could  do.1  I  do  not 
think  it  honest  or  gentlemanly  to  draw  the  character  of 
any  people  while  riding  through  their  country  on  horse- 
1  lu  the  scrjuel  I  found  myself  not  a  little  mistaken. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  125 

back,  or  to  describe  a  city  after  lodging  in  it  one  night. 
You  would  not  imagine  that  a  certain  traveller  had  passed 
through  Boston,  on  reading  that  ridiculous  anecdote  of  the 
"  house  with  wooden  rollers."  You  recollect,  he  says  the 
people  of  Boston  live  in  "  moving  houses  "  ;  so  that  if  they 
do  not  like  their  situation  or  neighborhood,  they  move  to 
another  part  of  the  town.  What  a  strange  idea  will  Euro- 
peans have  of  Boston  after  reading  such  a  fabrication ! 
Such  a  traveller  is  really  unpardonable ;  for  of  all  the 
senses,  the  sight  is  least  likely  to  mislead.  But  travellers 
take  great  liberties  ;  they  lie  boldly,  and  speak  the  truth  by 
chance.1 — not  so  much,  perhaps,  from  a  disposition  to  wan- 
ton over  Nature,  as  from  an  opinion  that  mankind  are  more 
readily  captivated  with  romance.  One  of  the  earliest  and 
most  famous  saints  docs  not  hesitate  to  assert  that  he 
passed  through  one  country,  the  people  of  which  were  desti- 
tute of  heads,  and  through  another,  the  people  of  which  had 
each  but  one  eye.  The  story  of  the  Amazons  had  its  origin, 
possibly,  from  some  traveller  desirous  of  attracting  attention 
at  home,  or  perhaps  from  certain  smugglers  who  appeared 
at  the  sea-side  dressed  in  women's  clothes  ! 

Another  traveller,  who  has  done  us  the  honor  of  publish- 
ing a  volume,  goes  nearly  the  length  of  asserting  that  the 
citizens  of  the  United  States  look  back  with  regret  on  their 
separation  from  Great  Britain. 

The  same  traveller  visited  Philadelphia;  but  not  being 
noticed,  because  not  known,  he  left  the  city  in  disgust,  and 
charged  the  citizens  with  a  lack  of  hospitality.  As  well 
might  one  who  had  just  dropped  from  the  moon  walk 
the  streets  of  London,  and  then  return  with  a  similar 
report.     Should  Mr.  Weld  visit  Philadelphia  again,  where 

1  A  mentir  hardiment,  ct  a  dire  la  vcrite  par  hasard.  —  Bonavesti/re 
D'Akgonxe,  under  the  name  of  Vigneul-Marville. 


126         LETTEBS  FBOM  LONDON. 

he  is  now  so  well  known,  I  am  confident  he  would  be  well 
received. 

Indeed,  so  little  is  known  in  Europe  of  the  people  of  the 
United  States,  that  if  you  would  describe  them,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  affirm,  with  no  little  assurance,  that  they 
are  as  white  as  other  people  ;  that  they  live  in  houses  ;  thai 
they  boil  and  roast  their  meat ;  and  that  they  speak  the 
English  language,  at  least  as  well  as  it  is  spoken  in 
Devonshire. 

Lest  I  should  be  premature  in  my  sketches,  I  shall  adopt 
a  rule  which  every  stranger  ought  to  follow,  until  repeated 
observation  confirms  first  impressions  ;  that  is,  to  open  his 
eyes  and  ears,  but  seal  his  mouth.  Adieu. 


LETTER  II. 


London,  June  25. 

I  never  knew,  until  the  present  time,  what  a  weight  im- 
presses on  one  who  presumes  to  utter  his  opinions  on  an- 
other country.  I  seem  to  support  the  responsibility  of  the 
nation,  and  tremble  while  judging  those  in  secret  whose 
grand  prerogative  it  is  to  be  judged  in  open  court.  That 
is  a  dignified  office  which  is  held  by  one  who  assumes  to 
sit  in  judgment  over  a  whole  nation,  and  it  ought  not  to  be 
filled  except  by  philosophers ;  yet  most  men  have  finished 
their  travels  before  they  set  out. 

The  English,  like  Themistocles,  take  to  themselves  the 
first  place,  because  most  foreigners  allow  them  the  second  : 
and  they  imagine  themselves  treated  with  ingratitude 
unless  every  stranger  throws  in  his  mite  of  panegyric. 
They  are  hardly  satisfied  if  you  invert  the  defiance  of  the 
poet,  and  praise  where  you  can,  and  censure  where  you  must. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         127 

It  has  been  the  good  fortune  of  the  English  to  be  ac- 
cused only  of  those  traits  of  character  of  which  they  boast. 
Charge  them  with  haughtiness,  and  they  will  tell  you  the 
Romans  in  their  best  days  were  the  haughtiest  people  on 
earth.  Accuse  them  of  hardness  and  oppression ;  they 
will  tell  you,  these  were  ever  the  misfortune  of  conquerors. 
Tax  them  with  an  overbearing  demeanor,  and  they  will 
seriously  tell  you  this  is  a  constitutional  foible,  owing  to 
the  consciousness  of  personal  independence.  Call  them 
proud,  and  they  will  tell  you  it  is  the  part  of  slaves  to  be 
humble:  freemen  are  always  proud. 

It  is  our  misfortune  to  have  been  visited  by  those,  who, 
far  from  being  philosophers,1  estimated  the  United  States 
agreeably  to  the  views  of  Europeans ;  hence  they  have 
thought  us  two  centuries  behind  the  polish  of  Europe ;  at 
the  same  time,  a  William  Penn  or  a  Rousseau  would  pro- 
nounce us  more  than  four  centuries  nearer  the  great  object 
of  the  social  compact.  It  is  not  long  since  a  Chinese  great 
man  (if  you  will  allow  the  Chinese  to  have  had  a  great  man 
since  the  days  of  Confucius)  arrived  in  Boston  with  a  con- 
siderable suite.  Being  asked  his  opinion  of  Boston,  he 
very  naturally  replied,  "  It  is  the  vilest  place  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  utterly  destitute  of  magnificence."  At  the  same 
time,  adverting  to  the  style  of  living,  he  added,  "  Why,  my 
father  has  three  hundred  servants." 

This  man  probably  went  home  and  thanked  Cod  that  he 
was  not  born  a  citizen  of  the  United  States,  and  was  ten 
times  more  confirmed  in  his  prejudices  than  when  he  left 
China  ;  for  travelling  is  as  likely  to  fix  native  as  to  remove 
foreign  prejudices.  When  such  a  man  as  Montesquieu, 
after  having  written  the  "  Spirit  of  Laws,"  and  appearing  to 

1  Even  Brissot,  I  suspect,  had  formed  his  opinions  of  the  character  of 
the  citizens  of  the  United  States  before  he  left  France.  Charmed  with  the 
form  of  our  government,  he  was  easily  led  to  speak  too  highly  of  the  citizens. 


128         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

sympathize  so  sincerely  with  freemen,  declares,  "  As  Plato 
thanked  J  leaven  that  he  was  born  in  the  same  age  with 
Socrates,  so  I  thank  God  that  I  was  born  a  subject  un- 
der that  government  in  which  I  have  lived,"  he  surely 
displays  a  childish  weakness.  It  may  be  pardoned  in  a 
Chinaman,  who  has  nothing  but  the  soil,  and  those  connec- 
tions which  all  people  have,  to  attach  him  to  his  country  ; 
but  Montesquieu  goes  near  to  prove  that  a  man  may  think 
and  write  like  a  freeman,  and  yet  content  himself  in  a  state 
of  slavery.  My  love  for  my  own  country  is  founded  chiefly 
on  its  constitution  of  government.  "  Nee  in  superficie  tig- 
nisque  caritas  nobis  patriae  pendct."  J  I  should  prefer  the 
salubrious  breezes  and  grateful  soil  of  Spain  to  the  cold 
north  winds  and  iron-bound  soil  of  New  England,  were  all 
other  things  equal.  "Quo  me  cumque  [Libertas  trahct], 
deferor  hospes."2 

I  foresee  I  shall  have  to  encounter  many  difficulties  be- 
fore I  can  catch  John  Bull ;  however,  I  will  send  you  all 
the  views  of  his  person  that  I  can  collect,  and  you  must 
put  them  together  as  well  as  you  can.  If  you  sometimes 
make  a  small  mistake,  it  is  no  great  matter,  for  John  does 
not  always  know  himself.  To  understand  the  English,  one 
should  be  a  plebeian  in  the  morning,  a  gentleman  in  the 
afternoon,  and  a  nobleman  at  night ;  otherwise,  the  vari- 
ous grades  of  society  are  so  fortified  in  peculiar  habit  that 
you  arc  in  danger  of  mistaking  honest  John  for  a  different 
animal. 

A  citizen  of  the  United  States  arrives  here  under  no 
favorable  circumstances  of  birth  or  of  consequence  ;  there- 
fore, to  gain  all  the  advantages  of  travel,  he  must  either 
break  down  or  leap  over  many  of  those  barriers  of  society, 
which,  with  many,  are  esteemed  sacred.  Adieu. 

1  Livy,  bk.  v.  54. 

a  Horat.  Epist.,  bk.  i.  1.  15. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  129 


LETTER   III. 

London,  July  9. 

My  attention  was  arrested  soon  after  my  arrival,  by  a 
most  humorous  object,  —  a  chariot  and  eight ;  but  to  do  jus- 
tice to  the  horses,  four  of  the  appendages  to  the  chariot 
were  not  of  their  species  :  they  were  four  stout  men,  such  as 
Hannibal  would  have  chosen  for  his  companions  through 
the  Alps.  Three  of  these  gentlemen  had  their  station 
behind  ;  and  with  such  a  lofty  air  did  they  carry  themselves, 
with  so  much  lace  were  they  puffed  off,  and  so  elegantly 
trimmed  were  their  cocked  hats,  one  might  easily  have 
mistaken  them  for  men  of  high  rank,  who  were  disposed 
to  amuse  the  populace,  —  especially  as  the  English  are 
famous  for  whim.  I  was  soon  undeceived,  for  I  observed 
on  many  of  the  gayest  carriages  four  supporters,  or 
holders,  for  the  servants. 

An  Englishman,  accustomed  to  see  such  things  daily,  may 
probably  have  but  one  reflection  on  such  an  exhibition,  — 
"The  owner  of  that  chariot  must  be  very  rich  ;"  and  pos- 
sibly this  is  the  only  reflection  he  ought  to  make.  What 
purpose  can  it  serve  to  reason,  when  our  best  conclusions 
tend  only  to  discover  a  situation  which  we  cannot  remedy  ? 
Slaves  ought  to  have  but  one  sense,  that  of  hearing,  and 
but  one  idea,  that  of  obedience. 

It  is  the  part  of  a  man  of  judgment,  Rousseau  some- 
where observes,  when  surprised  by  novelty  to  ask  its  use. 
This  is  natural,  and  is  exemplified  by  the  aborigines  of 
our  own  country.  They  wondered  at  the  stupidity  of  the 
man  who  rode  about  in  a  chaise,  which  could  not  be  moved 
without  a  horse ;   but  the  first  mau  on  horseback  whom 


130  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

they  saw  they  believed  to  be  one  animal,  and  pronounced 
it  an  excellent  contrivance;  for  strength,  swiftness,  hunt- 
ing, and  swimming,  —  savage  attributes  and  faculties  of 
prime  consequence, —  were  present  in  an  eminent  degree. 
But  had  they  seen  these  three  stout  men  behind  the 
chariot,  they  would  have  perceived  little  congruity  be- 
tween them  and  the  carriage. 

I  am  strongly  impressed  that  cither  these  useless  beings 
imply  a  great  degree  of  misery  or  a  great  degree  of  servi- 
tude in  the  nation.  If  their  situation  be  desirable,  it  pre- 
supposes such  a  degree  of  misery  that  they  are  obliged 
to  fill  the  humblest  offices  for  bread.  If  they  seek  these 
situations  and  fill  them  in  preference  to  others,  it  implies 
the  loss  of  all  sense  of  human  dignity.  These  are  not 
the  only  evils.  These  drones  are  a  tax  on  the  industrious 
poor ;  they  eat  that  bread  for  which  others  are  suffering, 
and  raise  the  price  of  that  which  they  do  not  consume. 
However,  all  this  is  necessary  in  a  monarchy ;  the  grand- 
eur of  the  nobles  is  a  part  of  the  Constitution,  and  must 
be  supported,1 — in  other  words,  poverty  is  a  necessary 
part  of  monarchy.  If  this  evil  cannot  be  remedied,  kind 
fortune  is  daily  counteracting  it  by  humbling  the  great 
and  exalting  the  humble :  otherwise  Europe  would  soon 
become  a  sad  spectacle  of  tyrants  and  slaves.  So  true 
is  it,  as  Beccaria  observes  :  "  In  every  human  society  there 
is  an  effort  continually  tending  to  confer  on  one  part  the 
height  of  power  and  happiness,  and  to  reduce  the  other 
to  the  extreme  of  weakness  and  misery." 

There  are  two  powerful  reasons  why  the  United  States 
will  not  for  these  hundreds  of  years  afford  such  a  sight 
as  those  chariot  appendages.  The  proud  principles  of  the 
Constitution  will  teach  the  humblest  to  avoid  the  distinc- 
tions of  master  and  servant.     The  other  is  a  more  practi- 

1  Vide  Montesquieu's  Spirit  of  Laws,  bk.  v.  9. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  131 

cal  cause,  and  is  operating  daily,  —  I  mean  the  extended 
territory  of  the  United  States.  If  a  man  be  born  poor, 
he  is  not  born  to  poverty ;  or  if  born  to  labor,  he  is  not 
born  to  servitude.  He  has  only  to  emigrate  an  hundred 
or  two  miles,  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  he  proudly 
looks  around  him  and  says,  —  "  This  farm  is  my  own,  and 
my  children  will  inherit  it  after  me." 

However,  I  do  not  wish  you  to  believe  the  English 
populace  are  in  general  so  little  respectable  as  those  four 
easy  men.  One  could  not  stand  two  hours  in  the  street 
without  seeing  a  practical  application  of  one  of  the  first 
principles  of  the  English  Constitution.  The  chimney- 
sweeper knows  very  well  his  standing  in  society :  and 
without  seeming  to  feel  for  those  who  think  cleanliness 
one  of  the  conveniences  of  life,  he  wraps  himself  up  in 
his  sooty  consequence,  and  all  who  would  pass  by  him 
must  either  hazard  the  effect  of  contact  or  walk  in  the 
mud  until  they  are  out  of  his  reach.  The  porter,  too, 
though  his  burden  should  be  an  impediment  to  every  one, 
keeps  the  footway ;  and  no  one  presumes  to  request  him 
to  walk  in  one  part  of  the  street  rather  than  in  another. 
1  am  not  certain  that  1  am  correct  in  attributing  this  to 
the  democratic  branch  of  the  Constitution  ;  I  am  more 
inclined  to  attribute  it  to  the  common  law.1  The  influence 
of  the  democratic  branch  of  the  Constitution  is  too  remote 
from  the  people  to  affecjb  them  very  strongly ;  but  that 
part  of  the  common  law  which  places  the  person  of  the 
peer  and  of  the  plebeian  on  an  equality,  being  known  to 
every  one,  comes  home  to  their  feelings,  and  operates 
most  visibly  on  the  lowest.  If  all  people  are  presumed  to 
know  enough  of  the  laws  of  their  country  to  be  answer- 
able for  the  infraction  of  the  same,  it  would  be  singular 

1  The  common  law  is  a  part,  and  in  my  opinion,  the  best  part  of  the 
English  Constitution. 


132         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

if  they  should  be  ignorant  of  those   laws  whence   they 
derive  all  their  consequence. 

Preserve  the  common  law,  and  I  believe  the  people  would 
scarcely  miss  the  Constitution.  But  every  good  has  its  at- 
tendant evil  :  the  common  law  is  in  continual  danger  of 
that  terrier  of  Parliament,  —  statute  law  ;  so  that  the  Eng- 
lish ma-y  one  day  find  themselves  buried  under  a  mass  of 
statutes.  Adieu. 


LETTER   IV. 


London,  August  10. 

One  can  know  nothing  of  this  people  without  mixing 
with  them.  They  seem,  most  of  them,  to  have  two  char- 
acters, —  one  repellent,  especially  to  strangers ;  the  other 
quite  accommodating  and  disposed  to  confidence,  if  you 
are  willing  to  show  them  a  little  deference.  Nothing  is 
lost  by  this,  for  they  generously  disclaim  that  superiority 
which  is  granted. 

I  have  also  discovered  a  remarkable  desire  in  those  who 
affect  to  rank  among  the  better  sort,  to  pass  themselves 
off  in  the  presence  of  strangers  for  gentlemen  of  fortune 
and  consequence.  Last  Sunday  morning  I  visited  Kens- 
ington Garden  so  early  that  but  one  person  was  there 
before  me.  "We  passed  and  repassed  each  other  many 
times ;  but  he  showed  no  disposition  to  speak,  or  to  be 
spoken  to.  At  length  I  ventured  to  accost  him;  and  to 
whom  do  you  think  I  had  the  honor  to  address  myself  ? 
It  appeared  in  the  sequel  that  he  was  a  member  of  Par- 
liament, possessed  of  an  immense  landed  property  in  Kent, 
and  that  he  had  frequently  been  offered  a  pension  by  Mr. 
Pitt  if  he  would  support  the  ministry,  which  offer  had 
been  as  frequently  refused  from  a  motive  of  patriotism. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  133 

He  said  he  had  foreseen,  and  advised  Mr.  Pitt  of  the 
termination  of  the  war.  I  observed  he  must  also  have 
known  Mr.  Burke.  u  Poor  fellow,"  said  he,  "  Burke  lost 
his  senses  a  long  time  before  he  died ;  he  quarrelled 
with  me  at  last,  after  an  intimacy  of  thirty  years.-'  This 
man  might  possibly  have  been  a  member  of  Parliament, 
notwithstanding  the  attrition  of  time  had  effected  one 
considerable  breach  in  his  hat  and  two  breaches  in  his 
coat. 

The  English  are  said  to  hold  all  other  peoples  in  con- 
tempt,—  the  usual  fault  of  islanders;  and  they  indulge 
a  sentiment  of  disdain,  arising  from  comparison  rather 
than  from  any  other  cause.  I  am  led  to  the  above  re- 
mark from  an  occurrence  which  lately  happened  to  my- 
self. In  travelling  to  London  in  a  stage-coach,  I  had 
become  so  intimate  with  one  of  the  passengers  that  just 
before  the  journey  was  finished  he  politely  gave  me  his 
address.  I  told  him  I  could  not  in  return  give  him  mine ; 
for  being  a  stranger  in  the  country,  I  knew  not  where  I 
should  take  lodgings.  I  thought  the  man  was  suddenly 
taken  ill,  so  altered  was  his  countenance  in  a  moment. 
"  Are  you  not  an  Englishman  ? "  he  asked,  with  a  tone 
which  partly  betrayed  mortification  that  he  should  have 
made  such  a  mistake,  and  partly  regret  that  he  should 
have  done  me  so  much  honor  as  to  have  taken  me  for 
an  Englishman.  "  No ;  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States."  He  seemed  to  say, "  So  much  the  worse,"  wrapped 
himself  up  in  a  revery,  and  was  silent  the  remainder  of 
the  journey. 

This  repelling  trait  of  character,  for  which  the  English 
are  noted,  does  not  arise,  in  my  opinion,  entirely  from 
their  disposition.  In  a  country  like  this  —  a  commercial 
country  —  where  the  interest  of  each  individual  interferes 
in  some  form   or   other  with  his  neighbor's;   where   the 


134  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

people  mutually  thrive  at  one  another's  expense ;  and 
where  even  the  pious,  if  they  put  up  a  prayer  in  the 
morning  for  a  blessing  on  the  day,  the  substance  of  it 
must  be  the  overreaching  of  their  fellows,  —  among  such 
there  is  no  room  for  cordiality ;  and  when  attentions  are 
proffered,  the  motive  ought  to  be  suspected.  All  will  be 
suspicious  of  those  with  whom  they  are  unacquainted, 
especially  in  such  a  city  as  this,  to  which  rogues  of  all 
descriptions  resort,  either  to  hide  their  infamy  or  sell  it 
for  a  higher  price.  Hence  the  first  maxim  should  be  to 
know  nobody  by  whom  you  are  not  likely  to  profit.  An 
apostle  among  such  a  people  would  command  no  more 
attention  than  a  ballad  singer,  and  would  afford  specula- 
tion to  no  one  but  a  Jew  clothesman. 

How  far  these  observations  apply  to  our  own  country, 
I  leave  you  to  judge.  I  believe  commerce  preserves  the 
same  character  in  all  countries  and  in  all  ages.  The 
merchant  of  Alexandria,  who  arrived  in  a  time  of  famine 
at  Rhodes  with  a  cargo  of  corn ;  the  bankers  of  Syracuse, 
who  sold  Cauius,  the  Roman  knight,  a  farm  with  a  fish- 
pond in  it;  the  merchants  of  Amsterdam,  who  cut  down 
the  cinnamon-trees  in  the  East;  the  Hamburghers,  who 
betrayed  Napper  Tandy ;  the  merchants  of  Liverpool,  who 
pray  God  not  to  change  the  color  of  the  negroes ;  and  cer- 
tain merchants  of  Boston,  who  dream  of  wars  in  Europe 
as  the  greatest  blessing  which  Providence  can  send,  are 
all  allied  to  the  same  family.  How  applicable  to  the 
present  time  is  the  following  remark,  made  nearly  nine- 
teen centuries  ago :  "  Quod  si,  qui  proscribunt  villain 
bonam  beneque  ledificatam,  non  existimantur  fcfellisse, 
etiam  si  ilia  nee  bona  est,  nee  cedificata  ratione."  1 

Thank  God,  the  United  States  are  rather  an  agricul- 
tural than  a  commercial  country  ;  otherwise,  in  spite  of 
1  Cicero  De  Officiis,  bk.  iii.  13. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         135 

the  Constitution,  our  republic  would  soon  be  lost  in  an 
odious  aristocracy,  and  what  is  still  worse,  a  commercial 
aristocracy,  which  experience  proves  to  be  the  most  inex- 
orable and  cold-blooded  of  all  tyrannies,  whose  maxims  are 
founded  on  cautious  speculation,  and  acted  on  in  all  the 
varieties  of  monopoly,  —  maxims  which,  fortified  by  law, 
strengthen  the  powerful  at  the  expense  of  the  weak.  For- 
tunately for  us  the  citizens,  lords  of  their  farms,  will  have 
interests  different  from  the  merchants,  and  will  be  for- 
ever a  check  on  the  spirit  of  commerce.  Were  it  not  for 
this  last  circumstance  there  would  not  be  virtue  suffi- 
cient in  the  country  to  support  our  form  of  government, 
except  for  a  very  short  period.  I  know  not  if  these  senti- 
ments meet  yours,  but  from  what  I  have  already  observed 
here,  I  am  confirmed  in  them.  It  is  neither  the  king 
nor  the  nobles  nor  the  commons  who  govern  England, 
but  stockjobbers,  commercial  companies,  and  monopolists. 
Parliament  is  only  a  sort  of  attorney  to  draw  up  their  rules 
and  regulations,  and  ratify  them  according  to  law. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   V 


Loxdox,  August  20. 
The  election  of  members  of  Parliament,  for  Westmin- 
ster, recurred  in  July.  Everything  relative  to  this  popu- 
lar prerogative  will  interest  a  citizen  of  the  United  States ; 
he  cannot  observe  the  hustings  without  a  warm  reverence 
for  the  great  original  of  his  own  freedom.  The  theory  of 
a  popular  election  is  a  political  sublimity  which  a  demo- 
crat cannot  contemplate  without  rapture.  It  practically 
brings  society  back  to  first  principles,  checks  the  tendency 


136  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

of  government  to  usurpation,  arrests  the  bolt  of  power  in 
the  hands  of  the  wicked;  and  though  frequently  perverted 
in  practice,  and  made  to  sanction  its  own  destruction,  yet 
election  keeps  alive  the  principle  and  asserts  the  virtue  of 
at  least  a  part  of  the  people. 

The  following  notices  I  made  in  Covent  Garden,  the 
scene  of  the  election. 

The  candidates  were  Mr.  Fox,  Admiral  Lord  Gardner, 
and  Mr.  Graham,  an  auctioneer.  All  was  quiet  until  the 
candidates  appeared.  First  came  Mr.  Fox.  On  presenting 
himself  at  the  front  of  the  stage,  elevated  a  little  above 
the  heads  of  the  spectators,  a  violent  uproar  of  applause 
commenced  with,  "  Good  morning,  Charley,"  which  scarcely 
ceased,  when  Lord  Gardner  and  Mr.  Graham  appeared. 
The  popular  suffrage  seemed  to  be  divided  between  these 
two.  Fox  was  not  opposed ;  but  a  scattering  hissing  and 
clapping,  at  short  intervals,  commenced  when  either  Gard- 
ner or  Graham  appeared  at  the  front  of  the  stage. 

Whether  or  not  the  people,  from  some  cause,  are  weary 
of  the  popular  branch  of  their  government,  or  whether  they 
consider  an  election  a  mere  mockery,  or  an  affair  which 
concerns  only  the  candidates,  or  whether  Mr.  Graham  was 
not  a  man  of  sufficient  weight  to  contest1  the  election  seri- 
ously, I  know  not ;  but  certain  it  is,  the  election  appeared 
to  me  a  sort  of  Bartholomew  Fair,  to  which  the  people 
came,  some  for  amusement,  some  to  pick  pockets,  and 
some  merely  to  increase  the  crowd,  while  the  candidates 
afforded  the  entertainment,  which  was  not  without  humor. 
You  know  the  English  fancy  themselves  free  once  in  seven 
years.  This  election  brought  to  my  mind  the  Roman 
Saturnalia.  During  the  hustings,  likewise,  everything  is 
taken  in  good  part  by  the  candidates,  who  court  popularity, 

1  The  candidates  have  usurped  the  word  "  contest."  One  would  imagine 
that  the  people  should  contest  an  election,  not  the  candidates. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  137 

sometimes  not  disdaining  to  be  carried  home  on  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  people. 

The  candidates  usually  address  the  crowd  at  the  close 
of  each  day's  poll  and  return  their  most  sincere  thanks  for 
the  support  they  have  received,  and  sometimes  lay  their 
hands  on  their  hearts,  and  urge  their  friends  to  come  for- 
ward the  next  day  with  redoubled  ardor.  Those  who  are 
not  in  the  habit  of  public  speaking,  frequently  (at  least  it 
was  so  in  the  present  instance)  authorize  some  friend  to 
represent  them  to  their  future  constituents. 

The  daily  state  of  the  poll  is  painted  in  a  conspicuous 
place,  to  satisfy  the  curious.  This  I  imagine  is  absolutely 
necessary  ;  for  John  Bull  would  think  himself  imposed 
on  if  not  permitted  every  day  to  see  how  the  election 
is  going. 

Sometimes  the  electors  are  disposed  to  shake  hands  with 
their  representatives,  one  of  whom,  with  seeming  cordiality, 
said,  "  Ah,  Charley,  it  is  seven  years  since  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  shaking  hands  with  you,  how  have  you  done  all  that 
time  ?  "  "  Ah,"  groaned  another  man  among  the  crowd, 
"it  is  only  once  in  seven  years  that  the  two  parties  do 
shake  hands." 

Lord  Gardner  was  not  so  civilly  received ;  but  he  bore 
the  sarcasms  of  the  populace  with  much  good  humor,  and 
seemed  by  his  demeanor  to  be  confident  of  his  election  in 
spite  of  his  opposers.  A  sailor  stripped  off  his  jacket  and 
shirt  before  the  hustings,  and  asked,  "  Do  you  remember 
when  you  gave  me  that  flogging  ?  "  At  the  same  time  an- 
other threw  a  halter  at  Lord  Gardner  telling  him  to  recol- 
lect Governor  Wall.  The  Admiral  seemed  for  a  moment 
mortified  at  this.  He  said  nothing,  but  looked  a  sort  of 
appeal  to  the  spectators  as  if  he  had  said,  "  Do  I  merit  the 
charge  ? "  All  were  softened  in  his  behalf,  and  by  their 
murmur  of  applause  accmitted  him  instantly.     This  ready 


138  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

disposition  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the  injured,  is  one  of 
the  finest  traits  of  character  in  the  plebeian  English. 

At  the  close  of  the  poll,  Mr.  Fox  and  Lord  Gardner 
■were  declared  elected.  I  could  not  readily  account  for 
this  ;  Fox  was  not  opposed,  and  yet  Graham,  who  was  in 
Fox's  interest,  lost  his  election.  Mathematically  speaking, 
one  might  say  such  a  conclusion  was  impossible. 

The  election  continued  eight  or  ten  days.  I  believe  it 
in  the  power  of  either  candidate  to  extend  the  time  at 
pleasure.  If  so,  there  is  an  opening  to  the  greatest  ex- 
cesses, for  every  election  is  not  conducted  with  such  good 
humor  as  was  this.1  Broken  limbs,  and  even  homicide, 
are  not  unusual  at  some  elections.  How  will  you  account 
for  it  ?  The  citizens  of  the  United  States  ought  to  have 
the  prerogative  of  suffrage  much  more  at  heart  than  the 
subjects  of  England  have,  and  yet  at  no  contested  election 
in  the  United  States  was  there  ever  a  citizen  killed,  nor 
did  I  ever  hear  of  a  broken  limb.  The  cause  must  be 
sought  in  the  candidates  and  not  in  the  people. 

You  will  expect  a  description  of  Mr.  Fox,  his  appearance 
and  demeanor.  You  wish  to  know  how  he  was  dressed, 
how  he  stood,  and  how  he  looked.  In  his  youth  he  is  re- 
ported to  have  been  as  great  a  fop  as  was  Aristotle.  At 
present  I  will  only  say  his  appearance  was  altogether 
against  him.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been  long  in  the 
sea-service,  and  after  many  a  storm,  had  retired  on  half 
pay.  His  greasy  buff  waistcoat,  threadbare  blue  coat,  and 
weather-beaten  hat,  gave  him,  in  connection  with  his  great 
corpulency,  dark  complexion,  and  short  dark  hair  hasten- 
ing to  gray,  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  laid-up  sea- 
captain.  He  has  the  countenance  of  an  ancient  English- 
man, but  long  watching  has  changed  the  complexion  of 

1  At  the  three  preceding  elections  murder  was  committed.  This  circum- 
stance alone  is  nearly  sufficient  to  prove  there  is  no  liberty  in  England. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  139 

health  to  a  dun  color.  He  would  be  thought  at  present, 
by  one  who  did  not  know  him,  to  be  a  man  of  noble  dis- 
position rather  than  a  great  man.  "When  I  hear  him  in 
the  House  of  Commons  I  will  give  you  my  opinion  of  this 
great  favorite  of  our  citizens ;  though  why  he  should  be 
a  favorite,  I  know  not.  He  is  not  more  a  democrat  than 
Mr.  Pitt,  nor  have  his  exertions  benefited  his  country ; 
they  have  only  exasperated  inveteracy  and  strengthened 
opposition  by  calling  forth  a  ministerial  energy,  which  not 
only  touched  hard  on  the  true  principles  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, but  too  plainly  proved  that  there  was  not  sufficient 
affection  in  the  people  to  support  a  government  for  which, 
if  Mr.  De  Lolme  be  not  a  bombastic  panegyrist,  every  Briton 
ought  to  be  proud  to  die.  So  that,  with  all  his  ability  as 
an  orator,  and  all  his  logical  deduction  as  a  lawyer,  he 
must  pass  down  the  current  of  time  as  an  ^Eschines  or 
Hyperides,  —  a  foil  to  set  off  Mr.  Pitt,  whose  ascendant 
genius  has  shone  with  a  blaze  sufficient  to  encircle  his 
own  head,  even  amidst  the  ruin  of  his  country. 

For  my  part,  1  regard  the  late  administration  with  an 
eye  less  favorable  to  the  glory  of  Mr.  Pitt  than  do  many 
of  our  citizens.  The  loss  of  three  hundred  millions  ster- 
ling and  the  gain  of  ninety-five  peers  are  trifling  compared 
with  the  loss,  in  a  great  measure,  of  that  old  English  spirit 
which  formerly  distinguished  John  Bull  from  all  other  be- 
ings, and  which  spirit  led  our  ancestors  first  to  Leyden 
and  soon  after  to  Plymouth  Rock,  —  an  expedition  which 
might  have  revolted  a  Scotchman.  The  late  iron-handed 
administration,  fearful  of  every  one  who  was  not  directly 
or  indirectly  a  part  of  itself  in  the  midst  of  that  terror 
which  it  inspired,  displayed  its  imbecility  by  what  it  was 
pleased  to  term  its  own  inherent  energy. 

Who  supports  our  Constitution?  Who  supports  the 
administration  of  our  government  ?     Mr.  Jefferson  !     No, 


140  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

no;  the  strength  of  the  government  of  the  United  States 
is  founded  only  in  legitimate  strength,  —  in  popular  senti- 
ment, in  popular  affection.  We  have  no  personal  attach- 
ment to  our  presidents  and  governors,  and  ought  not  to 
have ;  we  respect  them  only  as  constitutional  statesmen. 
Such  a  government  might  be  a  laughing-stock  in  Europe 
—  more  shame  to  Europeans;  but  this  is  certainly  an  ex- 
perienced fact,  that  "  those  who  have  once  been  blessed 
with  a  free  government  have  never  lost  their  freedom  until 
they  were  unworthy  of  it."  They  could  not  lose  their  lib- 
erties by  any  accident  in  the  train  of  worldly  vicissitude ; 
they  would  not,  like  the  oak,  be  subject  to  the  whirlwind, 
nor  like  the  wheat  blade,  to  the  silent  mildew.  Neither 
force  nor  fraud  ever  ended  in  successful  slavery.  Force 
and  fraud  can  find  nothing  on  which  to  act  until  the  people 
forget  their  original  principles.  Sinon  in  his  wooden  horse 
may  enter  Troy,  but  his  success  depends  on  the  situation 
of  the  Trojans.1  There  is  no  good  reason  for  doubting 
Cromwell's  sincerity  at  first ;  afterward  he  thought  the 
nation  incapable  of  a  free  government  and  took  the  most 
ready  method  of  ascertaining  the  point,  and  was  successful. 
I  never  thought  worse  of  Cromwell  for  his  usurpation.  He 
was  not  a  tyrant  over  those  who  courted  his  tyranny. 

If  the  English  were  incapable  of  self-government  then, 
still  less  so  are  they  at  present.  Bonaparte  has  tried  the 
same  experiment  with  still  less  force,  and  with  still  greater 
success  ;  fugitive  from  Egypt,  he  well  knew  the  termination 
of  his  journey,  —  the  empty  chairs  of  the  directory.  The 
English  and  the  French  have  both  had  an  opportunity  of 
establishing  an  equal  government.  Events  have  proved 
that  the  blood  of  their  sovereigns  was  offered  up  to  strange 
gods.  These  efforts,  in  both  cases,  were  worth  making ; 
but  they  finally  demonstrated  that  a  legitimate  republic 
1  When  Sinon  entered  Troy,  they  were  celebrating  a  grand  rout. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  141 

requires  principles   to  which  the  people  of   both  nations 
were  altogether  strangers. 

When  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  become  strangers 
to  these  principles,  the}-  are  no  longer  free.  Should  I  live 
to  see  that  day,  I  should  triumph  in  their  slavery.  I  can- 
not find  it  in  my  disposition  to  sympathize  with  those  who, 
having  once  felt  the  sentiment  of  liberty,  could  be  rendered 
cold  to  its  influence.  The  tyrant  Tiberius  stands  acquitted 
before  that  senate  who  mingled  tears  with  joy,  and  regret 
with  flattery.1  Could  John  Hampden  have  been  recalled 
to  life  in  the  days  of  the  second  Charles,  I  have  often 
thought  he  must  have  expired  in  indignation. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   VI. 


London,  August  30. 
It  is  somewhere  observed  by  Dr.  Johnson,  that  a  deed 
with  all  its  legal  solemnities  is  one  of  the  severest  moral 
satires  on  mankind  which  study  could  invent.  He  need 
not  have  gone  far  to  have  found  subjects  for  many  more 
positive  and  direct  reflections  to  the  same  purport.  A  deed 
is  rather  a  satire  on  the  approaching  than  on  the  present 
age,  being  made  with  a  view  to  posterity,  who,  it  supposes, 
will  give  no  more  credit  to  the  present  than  they  are 
obliged  to  do  by  force  of  law.  Besides,  a  deed  supposes 
only  a  passive  kind  of  dishonesty,  which  might  endeavor 
to  defeat  the  original  design  by  legal  interpretation ;  but 
a  large  number  of  men  (the  city  watch),  in  time  of  pro- 

1  Vultnque  c'omposito,  ne  lteti  excessu  Principis,  neu  tristiores  primordio, 
lacrimas,  gaudium,  questus,  adulatione  miscebant.  —  Tacitus,  Annals, 
bk.  i.  7. 


142  LETTERS   FHOM   LONDON. 

Eound  quiet,  distributed  over  a  city  but  within  call  of  one 
another,  armed,  some  with  clubs  and  others  with  blunder- 
busses, looks  very  little  like  the  extreme,  or  rather  very 
much  like  the  extreme  of  civilization. 

Host  of  those  magnificent  houses  round  about  London, 
which  proudly  retiring  from  the  city  for  the  benefit  of  air 
and  prospect,  seem  built  as  much  with  a  view  to  external 
grandeur  as  to  domestic  convenience,  are  so  completely 
guarded  with  high  brick  walls  that  you  might  imagine  the 
Barons'  wars  had  not  yet  terminated  ;  for  his  house  in  a 
double  sense  is  the  owner's  castle.  Nor  can  you  look  into 
the  gardens  by  reason  of  the  fortifications  ;  though  you  fre- 
quently sec  an  elevated  sign  at  the  corner,  requesting  you 
to  take  notice  that  "  man-traps  "  are  placed  there. 

The  houses  in  the  city,  even  if  they  have  ten  feet  of  rear 
ground,  suffer  the  inconvenience  of  darkness  and  confined 
air  by  reason  of  high  walls,  to  the  tops  of  which  broken 
glass  bottles  are  usually  cemented,  —  I  do  not  say  to 
guard  against  the  neighbors. 

The  security  of  the  house  in  which  I  reside  is  guaranteed 
in  the  following  manner :  The  door  has  a  double  lock,  a 
chain  and  two  bolts,  besides  an  alarm  bell,  which  is  care- 
fully fixed  to  the  panel  every  night.  A  watchman,  if  he 
does  his  duty,  passes  by  the  door  once  in  thirty  minutes. 
Another  watchman  is  stationed  in  the  yard  and  doomed 
to  perpetual  imprisonment  with  a  chain  around  his  neck. 

This  wariness  is  perhaps  as  necessary  in  London  as  the 
guarded  circumspection  in  wording  and  the  various  for- 
mality of  executing  a  deed.  But  there  is  another  caution, 
though  in  appearance  much  of  the  same  complexion, 
which  does  the  people  infinite  honor,  —  I  refer  to  the  Chris- 
tian part  of  the  community,  who  lock  up  their  pew  doors, 
lest  the  church  should  be  profaned  by  those  who  have  no 
right  to  hear  the  Gospel. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         143 

The  story  which  they  tell  of  the  savage,  who  was  invited 
to  send  his  son  to  New  York  to  be  educated,  might  have 
been  more  highly  embellished  at  London.  I  know  not  if  you 
have  met  with  it.  The  savage  said  he  would  consider  of 
the  proposal,  but  would  first  see  the  people,  and  take  a  view 
of  the  city  ;  and  if  he  gave  the  preference  to  our  mode  of 
life,  should  have  no  objection.  On  entering  New  York,  he 
manifested  little  of  that  surprise  and  admiration  which 
novelty  usually  produces  in  the  ignorant.  The  first  object 
which  attracted  his  notice  was  a  negro.  He  had  never 
seen  one  before.  He  asked,  "  Who  is  that  black  person  ?  " 
and  was  informed  that  he  was  a  negro  slave.  The  meaning 
of  the  word  "'slave"  being  explained,  he  asked  the  cause  of 
his  being  a  Blave.  '•  Why,  he  is  black."  The  Indian  said 
nothing :  you  know  it  is  his  habit  in  the  most  serious  con- 
cerns to  proceed  with  a  coolness  which  looks  like  indiffer- 
ence. Presently  he  observed  a  gentleman  getting  out  of  a 
coach,  with  the  assistance  of  two  or  three  persons.  This 
arrested  his  attention.  He  asked,  "  Who  is  he  ?"  and  was 
told  he  was  a  very  rich  man  who  was  afflicted  with  the 
gout.  He  asked,  "  What  is  the  gout  ? "  and  was  informed. 
The  savage  said  nothing,  but  passed  on.  Presently,  he  saw 
a  man  apparently  in  distress  enter  a  certain  building  un- 
der the  guard  of  another.  He  asked  the  reason  of  this, 
and  why  the  building  looked  so  gloomy.  He  was  told 
it  was  a  prison,  in  which  both  those  who  would  not  and 
those  who  could  not  pay  their  debts  were  confined.  The 
Bavage  said  nothing.  He  now  saw  a  beggar  asking  charity, 
and  demanded,  '*  What  makes  so  much  difference  between 
those  two  men  ? "  The  explanation  of  this  involved  most 
of  the  principal  relations  of  society.  The  savage  paused, 
and  seemed  to  reflect  with  deep  consideration.  At  length 
he  smote  his  breast,  and  said  he  would  proceed  no  farther ; 
nor  could  lie  be  persuaded  to  tarry  one  night  in  the  city. 


144  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

1  have  imagined  the  same  wild  man's  mode  of  reasoning 
had  he  come  to  London.  I  pass  over  those  few  particulars 
which  speak  full  as  strongly,  I  think,  as  Dr.  Johnson's 
deed. 

Had  the  Indian  entered  the  city  by  the  west  end,  he 
might  have  seen  on  Hounslow  Ileath  two  of  those  gentle- 
men who  live  and  die  at  the  public  expense,  suspended  on 
gibbets  ;  one  of  whom,  from  the  appearance  of  the  skele- 
ton, must  have  been  a  remarkably  fine  fellow.  He  would 
suppose  these  skeletons  were  monuments,  sacred  to  the 
memory  of  redoubted  chiefs,  and  animating  examples  to 
the  rising  generation,  of  undaunted  valor,  wary  stratagem, 
or  Indian  fortitude.  The  savage  would  naturally  inquire, 
how  they  encountered  their  death  ;  in  what  glorious,  but 
fatal  struggle  they  fell  ;  what  unusual  exploits  they  per- 
formed to  merit  such  a  conspicuous  station ;  and  what 
enemy  had  the  honor  of  conquering  them  ?  Alas !  he 
would  be  told  the  scene  of  action  was  Hounslow  Heath, 
the  encounter  memorable  only  in  the  Newgate  calendar, 
that  they  were  thought  to  merit  their  high  station  in  the 
unanimous  opinion  of  twelve  men,  and  the  famous  fellow 
who  triumphed  over  them  was  one  Jack  Ketch.  After 
the  code  of  English  criminal  law  had  been  explained  to 
him,  he  would  find  sufficient  to  divert  his  mind  until  he 
reached  Hyde  Park  corner. 

By  the  time  the  Indian  arrived  there  he  would  be  ren- 
dered so  tame  he  would  not  dare  to  reach  over  a  hedge 
to  cut  a  walking-stick.  What  a  reflection!  that  he,  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  consider  the  largest  quarter  of 
the  globe  his  park,  all  the  rivers  and  lakes  his  fishery, 
and  all  the  forests  subservient  to  his  necessities  or  pleas- 
ures ;  that  he,  who  had  considered  himself  the  centre  of 
being,  and  fancied  the  circle  of  creation  moved  with  him- 
self, should   suddenly  find  his  person  in  the  king's  high 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  145 

way,  and  liable  to  be  put  in  closer  confinement  if  be  over- 
stepped  the  narrow  limit  of  sixty  or  seventy  feet. 

To  shock  the  man's  feelings  as  little  as  possible,  1  would 
not  hurry  him  into  the  city,  but  would  take  him  to  St. 
James'  Park,  in  order  to  show  him  the  decency,  the  order, 
and  the  magnificence  of  a  well-regulated  government.  But 
even  here  he  would  ask  certain  questions  which  it  might 
be  invidious  to  answer.  The  numerous  houses  of  noble- 
men which  border  the  park  would  raise  the  question  of 
their  origin  and  present  support.  "  This  man's  ancestor 
found  the  weak  side  of  a  weak  prince,  and  his  posterity 
have  been  maintained  ever  since  at  the  public  expense. 
That  man's  great  ancestor  by  his  abilities  became  so  for- 
midable to  the  State  that  it  was  found  necessary,  in  order 
to  change  his  conduct,  to  quiet  him  with  an  earldom  ;  and 
though  Nature,  through  his  descendants,  has  inflicted  a 
posthumous  penance  on  him  for  perverting  his  abilities, 
yet  that  only  affects  their  intellects,  not  their  dignity. 
That  house  is  considered  one  of  the  first  in  the  kingdom 
because  the  proprietor's  ancestor,  many  years  ago,  nearly 
ruined  the  nation."  "  But  does  not  every  age  produce  a 
sufficient  number  of  chiefs  ?"  the  savage  would  ask,  "  why 
then  the  necessity  of  making  those  men  chiefs  who  had 
none  of  the  requisite  qualities  ? "  The  shortest  answer 
would  be  that  they  never  were  made  such,  and  that  they 
were  in  general  nothing  more  than  reflected  greatness, 
like  the  moon  which  he  had  so  often  seen  when  standing 
on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac. 

On  viewing  the  king's  guards  the  question  would  occur, 
"Is  it  a  time  of  war?"  Being  answered  in  the  negative, 
the  stranger  would  naturally  ask,  "  Of  what  use  are  these 
soldiers  in  time  of  peace,  and  by  whom  are  they  sup- 
ported ?"  After  being  informed  that  men  in  Europe  are 
so  depraved  that  their  chiefs  are  obliged  to  raise  armies  to 


146  LETTERS  FBOM  LONDON. 

keep  them  in  awe,  he  would  ask,  "Are  those  chiefs  pro 
vided  with  the  means  to  subsist  and  clothe  them?"  Tlie 
answer  would  be,  "The  people  themselves,  to  guarantee 
their  own  obedient  conduct,  raised  them  and  paid  their 
expenses."  This  would  be  altogether  unintelligible,  and 
it  would  be  necessary  to  enter  into  a  thousand  political 
relations,  which  would  only  serve  to  perplex  him  still 
more. 

Our  Indian  should  now  be  shown  the  Tower.  After  view- 
ing the  trophies  and  the  armory,  with  which  he  would  be 
enraptured,  and  comparing  the  armor  of  former  days  with 
the  stature  of  men  of  the  present  time,  he  would  ask.  "  For 
what  purpose  was  the  Tower  built?"  On  being  told,  "To 
defend  the  city,"  he  would  naturally  inquire,  "  Why  do 
some  of  the  port  holes  open  directly  on  the  city  ? " 

In  passing  down  to  Wapping,  he  would  meet  a  press- 
gang  which  had  apprehended  some  sailors.  He  would  be 
told  that  persons  of  this  sort  were  carried  on  board  the 
ships  to  the  number  of  eighty  or  an  hundred  thousand 
men,  and  confined  there  for  the  space  of  four,  six,  or 
eight  years.  He  would  probably  ask,  since  the  criminal 
code  had  been  explained  to  him,  "  What  enormous  crimes 
have  they  committed  to  be  thought  worthy  of  such  an 
inhuman  punishment  ? "  He  would  be  told  that  these 
people,  so  far  from  having  committed  any  crime,  are  in 
reality  the  most  useful  members  of  the  community,  and  are 
actually  esteemed  the  grand  pillars  of  the  empire.  Here 
the  poor  devil  would  be  confounded,  and  might  exclaim 
in  the  Esquimaux  or  Mohawk  dialect,  "  Credat  Judseus 
Apclla ;  non  Ego." 

In  returning  from  Wapping,  the  visitor  should  look  into 
the  Royal  Exchange.  Observing  the  continued  hum  of  the 
citizens,  he  would  ask,  "  Why  do  those  people  appear  so 
busy  about  nothing  ?  "   and  would  greatly  wonder  on  being 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         147 

told  that  here  was  concentred  the  vital  principle  of  the 
nation,  which  diffused  its  influence  throughout  the  world  ; 
that  here  was  the  heart  of  the  empire,  —  but  unlike  the 
human  heart,  which  sends  the  current  of  life  through  the 
body,  it  drew  from  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe  its  own 
support.  It  would  then  be  necessary  to  enter  into  the 
history  of  the  East  and  West  Indies.  "  But,  if  one  half 
of  the  world  suffer  more  or  less  to  subserve  the  wants  of 
this  people,  why  have  I  seen  so  many  of  those  you  call 
beggars?"  The  national  debt  must  now  be  explained,  in 
order  to  convince  him  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
that  one  half  of  the  nation  should  prey  upon  the  other ; 
and  that  for  each  of  those  whom  he  saw  in  the  Exchange 
there  must  be  many  who  wanted  bread.  But  what  of 
that  ?  The  rich  delight  to  see  themselves  surrounded  by 
the  poor,  because  from  them  they  gain  one  half  of  their 
consequence. 

By  this  time  the  savage  would  become  incredulous,  and 
imagining  his  facility  was  tempted,  his  impatience  might 
rise  to  indignation.  Therefore,  to  give  him  a  practical 
view  of  London  on  the  body,  mind,  and  life,  he  should 
visit  Heaviside's  Anatomical  Museum,  Bedlam,  and  the 
Old  Bailey;  and  whether  he  would  leave  the  city  more 
or  less  a  savage,  I  think  it  rather  doubtful. 

Adieu. 


LETTER  VII. 


London,  September  11. 
The  English  are  a  more  civil  people  than  our  own ;  at 
least  they  are  more  disposed  to  street  civility.      I  have 
not  accosted  a  Londoner,  nor  indeed  any  of  the  country 


148  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

people,  whose  ready  attention  did  not  surprise  nic  ;  but 
there  is  a  perceptible  difference  between  the  civility  of  the 
plebeian  and  of  the  gentleman.  If  you  request  a  gentle- 
man for  any  little  matter  of  information,  he  may  possibly 
seem  to  say,  "  I  am  no  guide-post,"  while  the  plebeian  is 
ready  to  become  one.  In  general,  however,  you  are  sure 
to  meet  with  that  cordiality  which  one  owes  another  who 
has  placed  in  him  so  much  confidence,  as  eventually  to  ex- 
pose yourself  to  a  degree  of  ill-treatment  by  being  roughly 
answered.  A  pertinent  question,  accompanied  with  a  de- 
meanor which  does  not  assume  superiority,  invariably 
receives  from  the  common  people  decent  respect,  if  not 
disinterested  courtesy.  This  was  unexpected,  as  the  Eng- 
lish are  usually  called  barbarians  by  foreigners. 

From  whatever  cause  this  urbanity  proceeds,  it  is  cer- 
tainly pleasing  to  a  stranger  who  finds  himself  among  a 
million  of  people,  nine-tenths  of  whom  owe  but  little  to 
society. 

Not  so  with  our  citizens ;  they  seem  to  carry  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  about  with  them,  and  to  regard  the 
least  degree  of  urbanity  which  may  possibly  be  construed 
into  obsequiousness,  a  breach  of  the  Constitution.  Stran- 
gers are  most  likely  to  observe  this ;  hence  their  first  im- 
pressions are  unfavorable. 

This  want  of  urbanity,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  is  the 
offspring  of  manners  rather  than  of  morals,  and  docs  not 
affect  the  disposition.  The  Chinese  are  said  to  be  the 
most  civil  people  in  the  world.  The  French,  too,  are  more 
noted  for  politeness  than  cordiality.  I  believe  the  cause 
is  to  be  sought  in  the  form  of  government.  It  is  a  politi- 
cal paradox,  I  allow,  that  people  under  the  worst  form  of 
government  should  even  appear  to  have  any  commendable 
qualities.  Despotic  governments  have  ever  produced  the 
most  pliant,  accommodating,  and  obliging  subjects;  while  in 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         149 

limited  monarchies  the  people  have  departed  from  this 
character  in  the  degree  that  their  monarchy  lias  been  lim- 
ited. Democracies  have  ever  produced  the  contrary  char- 
acter in  the  degree  the  democracy  has  approached  to  a 
state  of  nature.  We  have  a  remarkable  instance  of  this 
in  the  anecdote  recorded  in  Robertson's  Charles  V.  Clovis 
■was  nominally  king  of  the  Franks.  His  followers  on  a 
certain  expedition  had  plundered,  among  other  things,  a 
vase  belonging  to  a  church.  The  bishop  sent  deputies  to 
Clovis  to  beseech  him  to  return  the  sacred  vessel;  and 
Clovis,  willing  to  restore  it,  requested  the  soldiers. to  per- 
mit him  to  take  that  vase  for  himself  before  the  plunder 
was  divided,  when  a  fierce  soldier  stepped  forth  and  with 
his  battle-axe  broke  the  vase  into  a  thousand  pieces,  saying, 
"  He  shall  have  nothing  which  his  lot  does  not  give  him." 

I  am  still  less  willing  to  believe  this  spirit  of  subservi- 
ence is  indicative  of  a  substantial  virtue  to  which  our 
own  citizens  arc  strangers.  A  late  physician  has  sup- 
posed thirty-seven  persons  to  die  daily  in  London  from 
want  of  the  necessaries  of  life ;  yet  London,  above  all 
places,  is  renowned  for  charitable  institutions  and  volun- 
tary subscriptions,  while  the  cities  of  the  United  States 
(Charleston  and  New  York  excepted)  are  chiefly  famous 
in  the  journals  of  travellers  for  debt  and  credit ;  for  all 
that,  I  am  sure  it  would  be  suicide  if  a  man  should  starve 
to  death  in  the  United  States.  However,  it  is  no  reflection 
on  the  humanity  of  England  if  many  die  of  want.  To 
provide  for  all  who  are  suffering  would  exhaust  the  bounty 
of  Providence.  With  us  the  case  is  different.  The  fer- 
vency of  many  a  pious  Christian's  charity  cools  before  he 
can  find  an  opportunity  of  bestowing  it;  and  because  chari- 
ties are  consequently  unusual,  certain  superficial  observers 
have  supposed  there  is  a  lack  of  sympathy,  to  excite  which 
there  is  no  object. 


150  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

Europeans  believe  the  people  of  the  United  States  to 
be  pre-eminent  for  hospitality  on  account  of  the  facility 
of  obtaining  a  livelihood  :  whereas,  in  fact,  we  ought  to 
be  the  least  hospitable  of  any  people.  If  you  except  the 
single  case  of  merchants,  you  will  find  hospitality  has 
ever  flourished  most  where  there  has  been  the  greatest 
inequality  of  rank  and  fortune.  It  is  a  feudal,  rustic 
virtue,  which  the  vigor  of  equality  relaxes,  and  which  the 
decay  of  chivalry  renders  useless.  Where  there  are  few 
beggars,  there  will  be  little  charity  ;  and  where  there  is  a 
prevalent  equality  of  condition,  there  will  be  little  hospi- 
tality. Yet  surely  that  town  cannot  be  thought  inhospi- 
table through  which  no  human  being  could  pass  with  an 
empty  stomach,  if  he  would  condescend  to  make  his  wants 
known.  I  do  not  mention  this  in  contrast  to  the  country 
people  of  England,  seven-eighths  of  whom  are  laboring 
tenants,  with  the  exception  of  those  who  depend  on  their 
precarious  labor.  This  circumstance  —  connected  with  the 
state  of  society,  which,  in  consequence  of  land  monopoly 
originating  in  a  spirit  of  commerce,  has  rendered  the  con- 
dition of  the  lower  classes  ten  times  worse  than  it  was 
under  feudal  institutions  —  must  naturally  raise  a  hedge 
about  their  hearts  and  contract  the  generous  affections. 

I  know  that  the  opinion  is  advanced  in  books  that  our 
distresses  soften  the  heart  and  lead  to  commiseration  ;  yet 
universal  experience  is  to  the  contrary.  Present  distress 
engrosses  our  thoughts  and  renders  us  altogether  selfish ; 
past  pains  we  know  to  have  been  tolerable,  and  are  in- 
clined to  despise  those  who  do  not  endure  them  with 
dignity.  Thus  Tacitus  :  1  "  Quippe  Rufus  diu  nianipularis, 
deinde  centurio,  mox  castris  prrefectus,  antiquam  duramquc 
militiam  revocabat,  vetus  operis  ac  laboris,  et  co  immitior, 
quia  toleraverat."  The  negroes  who  are  made  overseers 
'  Annals,  l>k.  i.  20. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  151 

of  plantations  are  said  to  be  the  most  severe  taskmasters. 
Blood  familiarizes  to  blood.  Achilles,  who  was  discovered 
in  the  habit  of  a  virgin,  romping  among  girls  at  a  boarding- 
school,  could  after  ten  years'  warfare  please  himself  with 
the  sight  of  the  dead  body  of  the  respectable  Hector, 
dragged  at  his  chariot  wheels,  —  "Ter  circiim  Iliacos  rap- 
taverat  Ilectora  muros."  1  In  short,  those  who  have  suf- 
fered most  distress  are  the  most  ready  to  laugh  at  the 
distresses  of  others ;  hence  old  age  is  less  than  youth 
disposed  to  pity.  Were  it  not  so,  the  people  of  Europe 
would  be  doubly  wretched  ;  for  their  circumstances,  in  gen 
eral.  would  oblige  them  to  contract  their  hand  in  the 
moment  of  benevolence. 

Principles  are  inculcated  which,  even  should  they  operate 
kindly,  would  only  add  to  men's  misery.  Why  instil  noble 
seutiments  into  the  minds  of  those  whose  fixed  situation 
in  life  tells  them  noble  sentiments  would  not  be  suffered 
in  persons  of  their  condition,  and  would  even  be  a  barrier 
to  a  livelihood  ?  Why  teach  the  negro  the  Christian  re- 
ligion ?  You  only  fire  him  with  indignation,  and  give 
him  a  weapon  with  which  he  may  slay  you.  Why  teach 
the  Jews  toleration,  or  even  common  honesty,  since  every 
nation,  except  our  own,  persecutes  them  for  the  glory  of 
God,  and  binds  them  down  by  restrictions  and  disabilities  ? 
The  practical  part  of  the  Christian  religion  is  founded  on 
charity,  sympathy,  community,  equality  ;  then  how  absurd 
to  teach  the  Christian  duties  o?ie  Jan,  which,  politically, 
must  be  counteracted  the  six  following  days  ?  In  a  coun- 
try like  this,  where  there  are  so  many  species  of  men,  there 
should  be  as  many  codes  of  morality  as  there  arc  condi- 
tions in  the  State.  For  the  same  moral  principles  imposed 
on  all  operate  unequally:  to  bind  a  poor  man  to  the  same 
principles  you  do  a  rich  man,  is  unjust.     All  political  iu- 

1  Vergil,  ^Eucid,  bk.  i.  4S3. 


152  LETTERS   FROM   LONDON. 

stitutions,  even  the  best,  operate  against  the  poor  and  in 
favor  of  the  rich.  Law  and  equity  guard  against  these 
consequences  as  much  as  they  can;  still  the  law  operates 
Chiefly  for  the  benefit  of  the  wealthy,  and  is  rather  a  for- 
tification to  the  powerful  than  a  protection  to  the  weak. 
Fortunately  lor  Europe,  custom,  prejudice,  and  education 
dispose  her  subjects  to  acquiesce  ;  otherwise  they  would 
countervail  to  a  degree  which  her  political  systems  could 
not  tolerate.  Adieu. 


LETTER   VIII. 


London,  September  25. 
The  English  have  not  that  esteem  for  the  citizens  of 
the  United  States  which  might  naturally  be  expected  from 
their  mutual  relations ;  in  truth  they  are  partial  to  nobody. 
They  hate  all  whom  they  do  not  despise,  while  the  latter 
can  only  render  hatred  for  contempt.  Machiavel  would 
probably  think  it  a  national  virtue  to  hate  or  despise  all 
other  people;  but  the  English  have  improved  on  this, — 
they  undervalue  their  own  fellow-subjects  as  much  as 
they  do  foreigners.  A  poor  Scotchman,  who  is  necessi- 
tated to  take  the  main  road  to  England  because  Sir  John 
Sinclair  has  deprived  him  of  the  means  of  subsistence  at 
home,  by  converting  thirty-six  small  farms  into  one  in 
order  to  try  an  experiment  in  raising  sheep,1  is  thought 
to  be  very  selfish  if  he  comes  to  London  to  shun  the  curse 
of  Scotland.  The  Irishman,  too,  tired  of  sour  buttermilk 
and    potatoes   at   home,   is   considered   a   poor   vagabond 

1  Since  writing  the  above,  I  observe  that  Sir  John  has  vindicated  this 
measure ;  and  the  Reviewers  think  the  vindication  an  able  one.  I  hope  Sir 
John's  tenants  are  of  the  same  opinion. 


LETTERS  FEOM  LONDON.         153 

the  moment  he  crosses  the  Channel  in  search  of  roast 
beef  and  plum-pudding.  Had  the  United  States  continued 
under  the  British  government  we  should  have  been  the 
most  contemptible  of  mankind,  and  the  English  would 
have  been  the  first  to  despise  us ;  at  present  they  regard 
the  United  States  with  a  sentiment  far  more  honorable 
than  that  of  contempt. 

It  is  very  easy  for  these  people  to  tell  you  what  they  do 
not  respect ;  on  the  contrary,  what  they  do  respect  is  not 
so  evident.  They  differ  wonderfully  from  the  Scotch,  in 
one  particular:  A  Scot  is  partial  to  his  fellow-Scotchmen, 
with  very  little  fondness  for  Scotland ;  an  Englishman  is 
still  more  partial  to  England,  with  very  little  fondness  for 
Englishmen.  One  might  suppose  such  a  people  must  be 
insufferably  haughty,  yet  he  would  greatly  mistake  their 
character.  I  have  never  seen  a  haughty  Englishman. 
They  could  not  live  within  a  mile  of  one  another,  were  they 
both  proud  and  haughty  ;  but  being  only  proud,  they  re- 
spect one  another,  whereas  it  is  the  property  of  haughti- 
ness to  be  arrogant.  Now  the  English  are  not  open  to 
this  charge.  He  who  is  haughty  will  inevitably  render 
himself  ridiculous  to  all  who  despise  his  airs.  I  do  not 
recollect  an  instance  of  having  seen  an  Englishman  ridi- 
culous on  this  account.  Hence,  though  their  characters 
are  extremely  angular,  they  are  rather  defensively  than 
offensively  proud. 

Nor  are  the  English  more  vain  than  haughty.  They 
dress,  conduct,  think,  as  they  please,  and  set  everybody  at 
defiance.  At  the  same  time  if  they  know  you  esteem  them, 
and  feel  conscious  they  have  not  demeaned  themselves,  none 
can  be  more  happy  in  possessing  your  good  opinion.  This 
carelessness  of  the  opinion  of  other  people  shows  itself  in 
all  ranks,  especially  the  lowest.  The  swing  of  the  arm,  the 
incautious  step,  the  rolling  of  the  body,  tell  you  plainly  that 


154  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON*. 

they  care  for  nobody,  no,  not  they  ;  but  this,  in  part,  may 
be  owing  to  an  air  of  majesty  which  they  assume,  for 
which  the  very  lowest  of  the  English  are  remarkable. 
Those  who  are  more  immediately  dependent  on  others  for 

a  livelihood,  have  a  mixed  character  of  servility  and  inde- 
pendence. They  cherish  the  estimation  of  those  on  whom 
they  are  dependent,  but  seem  utterly  regardless  of  the  good 
opinion  of  others.  The  middle  ranks  follow  their  own  in- 
clinations, and  form  their  own  manners.  Hence  they  make 
a  motley  picture,  diversified  from  Quaker  simplicity  to  an 
appearance  of  studied  artifice ;  but  this  appearance  seldom 
arises  from  affectation,  —  they  are  above  that,  —  but  rather 
from  whim.  Judging  at  a  distance,  the  nobility  appear  to 
me  to  build  their  characters  much  more  on  the  populace 
than  the  populace  theirs  on  the  nobility.  I  am  disposed  to 
believe  it  policy  and  affectation  which  so  frequently  in- 
duce the  nobility  to  dress  more  meanly  than  many  among 
the  lower  orders,  —  policy  to  conciliate ;  affectation  of 
seeming  to  attach  no  consequence  to  their  rank.  The 
king  is  liable  to  the  same  remark ;  he  has  much  more  of 
the  external  appearance  of  John  Bull  than  of  the  Ger- 
man, and  is  frequently  seen  not  better  dressed  than  one 
of  our  farmers,  with  an  old  hat  not  worth  sixpence.  But 
I  was  speaking  of  the  nationality  of  this  people. 

It  is  a  happy  circumstance  that  this  attachment  to  the 
soil  is  so  deeply  rooted  in  the  great  mass  of  the  English ; 
it  serves  a  substitute  for  real  patriotism.  The  rich,  in 
every  country,  if  they  retain  those  sentiments  for  which 
an  honest  man  ought  to  blush,  may  be  tolerably  happy, 
whether  they  live  at  Constantinople,  Venice,  or  Madrid ; 
but  by  far  the  greater  part  of  every  nation  in  Europe, 
and  that  part  to  which  a  nation  looks  for  support  in  the 
moment  of  emergency,  is  fortunately  retained  under  the 
wizard  spell  of  prejudice. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  155 

I  will  give  you  one  or  two  instances  of  this  national 
partiality,  which  have  already  passed  under  rny  notice. 

At  an  ordinary  the  other  day,  I  heard  two  politicians, 
one  friendly,  the  other  inimical,  to  Mr.  Pitt's  administra- 
tion, advance  their  different  sentiments.  You  observe  I 
do  not  term  one  of  them  Wliig  and  the  other  Tory.  There 
is,  I  believe,  no  such  distinction  now  in  England.  Dr. 
Johnson  was  the  last  Tory.  The  one  contended  that  "  the 
Constitution  of  1G92  is  no  longer  the  boast  of  Englishmen ; 
that  it  is  a  mere  prejudice  to  support  longer  a  form  of 
government  which  has  evaporated  to  theory,  and  which 
cannot  support  itself  on  first  principles;"  that  "Mr.  Pitt 
had  told  the  whole  world,  that  a  chancellor  of  the  ex- 
chequer has  it  in  his  power  to  guide  the  Parliament  at 
pleasure,  whereby  the  democratic  branch  of  the  Constitu- 
tion is  become  a  dead  letter."  The  other  opposed  him 
on  the  grounds  of  expediency,  popular  disaffection,  and 
the  latitude  of  ministerial  prerogative.  A  few  days  after- 
ward I  observed  the  former  gentleman  at  the  same  place, 
and  suspecting  his  every-day  politics  were  assumed,  urged 
a  conversation,  first  giving  him  to  understand  that  I  was 
not  a  subject  of  his  Majesty,  in  order  to  touch  more  nearly 
his  national  pride.  Otherwise  it  would  have  been  impoli- 
tic ;  for  the  moment  an  Englishman  discovers  you  to  be 
a  foreigner,  he  assumes  a  different  aspect,  not  in  the  least 
conciliating.  1  observed,  after  a  few  minutes  of  discon- 
nected conversation,  that  "  England  has,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, lost  that  proud  pre-eminence  which  she  possessed  under 
the  auspices  of  Walpole  and  Chatham."  "  Old  England," 
he  replied,  "  for  a  century  past  has  been  obliged  to  sup- 
port the  dignity  of  all  Europe  against  the  open  force  and 
secret  intrigue  of  France.  The  history  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, take  it  all  together,  is  as  splendid  as  that  of  any 
former ;  and,  though  the  late  administration  beggared  the 


156  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

country,  the  honor  of  the  nation  is  unsullied,  its  dignity 
increased,  and  its  spirit  unbroken."  "  But  do  you  think 
an  Englishman  can  rest  his  heart  on  the  bosom  of  his 
country  now  with  as  much  complacency  as  he  might  have 
done  half  a  century  past?"  "Yes,  sir,  with  much  more. 
When  England  is  most  distressed,  then  is  she  most  loved." 
"  But  love  for  our  country  ought  to  proceed  from  principle, 
not  from  a  mere  attachment  to  its  soil.  Is  your  Constitu- 
tion, which  has  extorted  the  admiration  of  your  enemies, 
as  operative  now  as  it  was  half  a  century  since  ? "  "  No 
doubt ;  for  it  is  better  understood  and  more  nicely  defined. 
But  suppose  we  had  no  Constitution  at  all,  to  what  country 
would  an  Englishman  emigrate  ?  " 

The  other  instance  occurred  over  a  pot  of  porter,  be- 
tween a  French  immigrant  and  a  full-blooded  Englishman, 
whose  pedigree  probably  has  not  been  crossed  since  the 
days  of  Canute.  The  Frenchman  thought  porter  was  too 
gross  for  those  who  lead  an  idle  life,  and  generally  ren- 
dered those  who  drink  much  of  it,  dull  and  stupid.  This, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  Englishman,  amounted  to  an  attack 
on  the  national  character ;  and  calling  for  another  pot,  like 
another  Lord  Peter,  he  endeavored  to  persuade  the  French- 
man that  in  a  pot  of  porter  was  contained  the  quintessence 
of  the  best  wines  of  every  climate.  Tbe  Frenchman 
thought  there  was  not  so  much  vivacity  in  it  as  in  cham- 
pagne. "  True,"  said  John  Bull,  "  there  is  not  so  much 
evaporation,  but  it  has  more  heart." 

This  man  might  not  have  crusaded  to  Jerusalem  in  be- 
half of  religion,  but  he  might  have  been  led  double  the 
distance  in  support  of  barley  and  hops. 

It  is  said  that  two  beggars  entered  into  partnership  ; 
but  on  counting  their  money  it  was  found  that  one  never 
collected  so  much  as  the  other.  The  cause  of  this  was  a 
matter  of  speculation  between  them,  especially  as  the  one 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  157 

who  collected  the  least  had  the  best  address.  At  length 
the  niore  successful  one  asked  his  fellow,  "  What  terms  do 
you  use  in  begging  ?"  He  replied,  "  That  depends  on  the 
passengers.  If  they  look  humane,  it  is  simply, '  God  bless 
you;'  if  they  are  hard  featured, '  for  God's  sake.'  "  "  Oh," 
said  the  other,  "  that  explains  it ;  to-morrow  beg  for  the 
honor  of  Old  England." 

When  an  Englishman  was  told,  "The  French  are  restor- 
ing their  navy,"  he  observed,  "  I  am  happy  to  hear  it." 
Being  questioned  why,  he  answered  sublimely  enough, 
"  They  are  working  for  us." 

Good  God !  if  a  poor  devil  who  has  not  a  foot  of  land  in 
the  island,  and  whose  ancestors,  for  many  generations,  have 
never  owned  even  a  cottage  which  might  serve  for  a  monu- 
ment of  their  having  been  members  of  the  social  compact, 
—  I  say,  if  such  a  people,  who  seem  to  be  outlawed  from 
God's  providence,  are  so  fondly  attached  to  a  country 
which  affords  them  only  an  abstract  and  indefinite  senti- 
ment of  affection,  I  can  easily  believe  what  is  reported  of 
the  Spartan  women,  who,  when  their  children  survived 
the  battle  of  Leuctra,  put  on  mourning,  while  the  mothers 
of  those  who  were  slain,  went  in  procession  to  the  temple, 
and  returned  thanks  to  the  gods.  What  sort  of  characters 
will  the  citizens  of  the  United  States  display  in  the  time 
of  national  emergency,  possessing  as  they  do  a  practical 
form  of  government  which  Plato  dared  only  contemplate, 
and  which  the  sanguine  imagination  of  Rousseau  never 
led  him  to  hope  for !  Adieu. 


158  LETTERS   FItOM   LONDON 


LETTER   IX. 

London,  October  15. 

The  following  letter  will  be  composed  of  a  variety  of 
particulars,  which  may  be  worthy  the  notice  of  a  citizen  of 
the  United  States. 

The  most  humorous  sight  which  I  have  seen  was  an  Eng- 
lish funeral,  performed  in  the  most  fashionable  manner  ; 
for,  you  must  know,  they  perform  funerals  here.  An  un- 
dertaker's sign  exhibits  these  words :  "  Funerals  per- 
formed." The  first  funeral  I  saw  was  such  a  novelty,  I 
followed  it  a  short  distance,  not  knowing  what  it  was  ; 
and  as  my  habit  is  to  question  ever}'  one  whom  I  think 
can  give  me  any  information,  1  asked  an  honest  fellow 
what  the  show  was.  He  seemed  a  little  offended,  but 
directly  replied,  "  You  may  know,  one  day,  if  you  do  not 
come  to  the  gallows."  This  man,  like  Chatham,  was 
"  original  and  unaccommodating."  Observing  that  I  was 
surprised  at  his  answer,  and  feeling  perhaps  a  little  mor- 
tified, he  asked,  "Do  you  live  in  London?"  I  told  him 
I  had  just  come.  "  Well,  but  people  die  sometimes  in 
your  town."  By  this  I  discovered  that  the  performance 
was  a  funeral.  The  plumes  being  white  (the  sign  of  a 
virgin)  instead  of  black,  which  is  the  more  usual  color, 
accounts  for  my  ignorance.  LTad  I  been  in  Pekin,  I  should 
have  expected  a  white  funeral,  but  was  not  prepared  to  see 
one  in  London. 

When  a  rich  man  dies,  an  undertaker,  or  fashionable 
performer,  is  ordered,  who  employs  equipages  drawn  by 
horses,  which  I  mistook  for  baggage  wagons,  in  one  of 
which  he  puts  the  body,  while  several  hired  men,  dressed 


LETTERS  FROM  LOXDOX.         159 

fantastically  in  black,  walk  on  either  side,  with  not  more 
unconcern  than  would  be  expected.  Two  men  on  horseback 
precede  the  wagon  which  contains  the  body  ;  those  which 
follow  display  the  plumes,  the  sight  of  which  made  me  so 
merry.  The  mourners  follow  in  coaches.  I  never  until 
now  understood  that  line  in  Young,  — 

"  Xor  ends  with  life,  but  nods  in  sable  plumes." 

Though,  with  due  deference  to  Young,  I  think  this  is  rather 
man's  vanity  than  his  love  of  fame ;  for  no  mortal  can 
be  so  weak  as  to  expect  personal  fame  from  a  pompous 
funeral. 

After  having  witnessed  an  English  funeral,  you  would 
not  think  those  lines  of  Pope  exaggerated,  in  which  he 
represents  a  dying  beauty  in  hysterics  lest  she  should  be 
laid  out  in  woollen,  and  supposes  her  to  call  Betty,  to 
"  give  her  cheek  a  little  red  "  lest  she  should  appear  ugly 
in  her  coffin. 

I  believe  that  funeral  processions  in  New  England  are 
conducted  much  in  the  same  manner  as  they  were  in 
ancient  Rome.  Livy  says  it  was  reported  that  on  the 
death  of  Appius  Claudius,  in  the  year  of  Rome  284,  the 
people  assembled  at  his  house  to  swell  the  funeral  proces- 
sion.    "  Et  exsequias  frequens  celebravit." 

The  Jews  are  worthy  of  particular  notice.  I  have  be- 
stowed not  a  little  reflection  on  this  miserable  race,  and 
feel  disposed  to  speak  a  word  in  their  favor.  If  we  con- 
template their  situation,  even  in  England,  where  they  are 
less  persecuted  than  in  any  other  country  except  the 
United  States,  we  shall  find  them  indirectly  driven  to  prey 
on  the  public,  and  compelled  by  their  disabilities  to  a  con- 
tinual antagonism.  Eligible  to  no  office,  incapable  of 
holding  land,  or  even  of  possessing  a  house,  with  the  ad- 
ditional hardship  of  being  despised,  like  the  pariah  class 


160  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

of  India,  they  arc  absolutely  proscribed  from  the  social 
compact,  and  reduced  to  a  state  worse  than  that  of  simple 
Nature  ;  for  in  opening  their  eyes  to  their  condition,  they 
find  nothing  on  which  to  rest  but  the  canopy  of  heaven. 
Now,  I  would  appeal  to  Tully's  Offices,  or  even  to  Dr. 
Johnson,  if  a  man  thus  conditioned  by  force  insiduously 
legalized,  ought  to  be  honest ;  and  whether  a  man  thus  cir- 
cumstanced would  not  have  a  moral  right  to  repel  hostility 
by  every  means  in  his  power.  Under  such  restrictions  can 
a  Jew  be  expected  to  philanthropize,  or,  in  the  moment  of 
benevolence,  can  his  heart  wander  out  of  the  bounds  of 
his  own  nation,  when  early  sentiments  have  necessarily 
been  contaminated  by  all  the  arts  of  low  commerce  to 
whicli  his  nation  is  reduced  ?  A  benevolent  Hebrew  would 
be  a  monster.  Hence  a  Jew's  passion  cannot  be  reputa- 
tion of  any  kind,  but  must  be  the  love  of  money.  There- 
fore Shakspcarc's  imaginary  Shylock  is  not  exactly  true 
to  Nature.  A  Jew  in  such  a  case  would  have  accepted  all 
the  money  he  could  have  extorted,  and  have  foregone  his 
revenge.  Yet  this  imaginary  Shylock  has  prejudiced  thou- 
sands of  Christians  who  never  saw  a  Jew,  against  the 
whole  tribe  of  Israel ;  while  those  very  Christians  who 
read  the  story  of  a  certain  duke  who  demanded  a  large 
sum  of  money  from  a  Jew,  and  extorted  four  of  his  teeth 
before  the  money  was  paid,  are  greatly  surprised  at  the 
Jew's  obstinacy.  In  short,  the  Jews  owe  the  Christians 
nothing  but  hatred  and  revenge,  whether  they  revert  back 
to  former  times  or  regard  the  present. 

The  operation  of  those  disabilities  and  restrictions  which 
the  Christian  imposes  on  the  Jew  is  just  what  ought  to  be 
expected.  Is  a  house  on  fire,  the  Jew  is  happy  to  sec  it ; 
the  old  nails  afford  a  speculation.  Crimes,  for  aught  he 
cares,  may  multiply  with  impunity;  he  is  the  last  person 
to  inform.     "Who   ever   heard  of   a  Jew   informer  ?     The 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  161 

more  thieves,  the  more  distress,  the  more  boundless  ex- 
travagance, the  fairer  the  prospect;  to  him,  private  vices 
are  public  benefits.  Is  the  nation  ruined? — he  has  noth- 
ing to  lament,  ha\  ing  no  tie,  no  amor patrice,  no  attachment ; 
but  he  is  not  quite  ready  to  leave  the  country.  A  nation  in 
ruins  is  a  Jew  fair. 

If  the  Jews  were  more  disposed  to  agriculture,  they 
might  lind  in  the  United  States  a  resting  place;  and  not 
withstanding  their  religion,  they  might  flourish  as  well 
there  as  at  Jerusalem  or  on  the  more  favorite  banks  of 
the  Jordan.  Adieu. 


LETTER  X. 


London-,  October  30. 

I  have  lately  made  a  most  important  discovery  which 
has  disclosed  one  of  the  great  secrets  of  English  rank. 
You  in  the  United  States,  knowing  nothing  of  this,  will 
consider  the  following  authentic  history  of  rank  a  singular 
curiosity. 

They  have  confined  the  several  species  of  man  in  this 
country  within  such  definite  limits  that  the  moment  they 
hear  a  knocking  at  their  doors  they  can  tell  you  whether 
it  is  the  knock  of  a  servant,  a  postman,  a  milkman,  a  half 
or  whole  gentleman,  a  very  great  gentleman,  a  knight,  or 
a  nobleman. 

A  servant  is  bound  to  lift  the  knocker  once ;  should  he 
usurp  a  nobleman's  knock  he  would  hazard  his  situation. 
A  postman  knocks  twice,  very  loudly.  A  milkman  knocks 
once,  at  the  same  time  sending  forth  an  artificial  noise, 
not  unlike  the  yell  of  an  American  Indian.  A  mere  gen- 
tleman usually  knocks  three  times,  moderately.     A  terrible 


162  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

fellow  feels  authorized  to  knock  thrice,  very  loudly,  gen- 
erally adding  two  or  three  faint  knocks,  which  seem 
to  run  into  each  other;  but  there  is  considerable  art  in 
doing  this  elegantly,  therefore  it  is  not  always  attempted. 
A  stranger  who  should  venture  on  an  imitation  would 
immediately  be  taken  for  an  upstart.  A  knight  pre- 
sumes to  give  a  double  knock  ;  that  is,  six  raps,  with  a 
few  faint  ones  at  the  end.  I  have  not  yet  learned  the 
various  peculiarities  which  distinguish  the  degrees  be- 
tween the  baronet  and  the  nobleman  ;  but  this  I  know 
too  well,  that  a  nobleman,  at  any  time  of  night,  is  al- 
lowed to  knock  so  long  and  loud  that  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood is  frequently  disturbed ;  and  although  fifty  people 
may  be  deprived  of  their  night's  rest,  there  is  no  redress 
at  law  or  at  equity.  Nor  have  I  learned  how  long  and 
loud  a  prince  of  the  blood  presumes  to  knock,  though 
doubtless  he  might  knock  an  hour  or  two,  by  way  of 
distinction. 

You  may  hold  your  sides  if  you  please,  but  I  assure  you 
I  am  perfectly  serious.  These  people  are  so  tenacious  of 
this  prerogative  that  a  true-blooded  Englishman  goes  near 
to  think  it  a  part  of  British  liberty.  Indeed,  I  am  con- 
vinced I  could  place  certain  Englishmen  in  a  situation  in 
which,  rather  than  knock  at  a  door  but  once,  they  would 
fight  a  duel  every  day  in  the  week.  Good  heaven,  how 
would  a  fine  gentleman  appear,  if  obliged  to  knock  but 
once  at  the  door  of  a  fashionable  lady  to  whose  party  he 
had  been  invited,  while,  at  the  same  moment,  a  number  of 
his  every-day  friends  passing  by  might  observe  the  circum- 
stance !  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  more  distressing  occur- 
rence. The  moment  he  entered  the  room,  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  company  would  be  turned  on  him.  He  would  believe 
himself  disgraced  forever  ;  he  would  feel  himself  anni- 
hilated, for  all  his  imaginary  consequence,  without  which 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         163 

an  Englishman   feels  himself  to  be  nothing,  would  have 
forsaken  him. 

You  may  imagine  it  a  very  easy  matter  to  pass  from  the 
simple  rap  of  the  servant  to  that  of  the  nobleman  ;  but 
let  me  inform  you  this  little  monosyllable  stands  in  the 
place  of  Alpine  mountains,  which  neither  vinegar1  nor 
valor  can  pass.  Hercules  and  Theseus,  those  vagabond 
but  respectable  bullies,  who  governed  by  personal  strength 
instead  of  a  Btanding  army,  would  have  hesitated  an  enter, 
prise  against  these  raps.  They  have,  by  prescription,  risen 
nearly  to  the  dignity  of  common  law,  of  which  strangers  as 
well  as  natives  are  bound  to  take  notice.  I  was  lately- 
placed  in  a  pleasant  position  through  ignorance  of  this. 
Soon  after  my  arrival,  I  received  an  invitation  to  dine  with 
a  gentleman ;  and  in  my  economical  way,  with  the  greatest 
simplicity,  I  gave  one  reasonable  rap.  After  a  considerable 
time   a  servant  opened   the  door,  and   asked  me  what  I 

wanted!     I  told  him  Mr. .     He  replied,  "My  master 

has  company,  but  I  will  see  if  he  can  be  spoken  with."     In 

the  mean  time  I  was  left  in  the  entry.     Presently  Mr. 

came,  who,  a  little  mortified,  began  to  reprove  the  servant : 
but  it  appeared  in  the  sequel  he  was  perfectly  right,  for  on 

telling  Mr. u  I  knocked  but  once,"  he  burst  into  a 

laugh,  and  said  he  would  explain  that  at  dinner. 

Should  an  honest  fellow,  ignorant  of  the  importance  of 
these  raps,  come  to  London  in  search  of  a  place,  and  un- 
fortunately knock  at  a  gentleman's  door  after  the  manner 
of  a  nobleman,  it  might  prejudice  him  as  much  as  a 
prayer-book  once  prejudiced  a  certain  person  in  Connec- 
ticut.    The  anecdote  is  this :  — 

A  young  adventurer,  educated  Church-of-Enirland-wise 
on  going  forth  to  seek  his  fortune,  very  naturally  put  his 

1  Hannibal  is  saiJ  to  have  employed  vinegar  in  his  passage  through  the 
Alps. 


164  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

prayer-book  in  his  pocket.  Wandering  within  the  precincts 
of  Connecticut,  he  offered  his  services  to  a  fanner,  who, 
after  asking  him  a  thousand  questions,  gave  him  employ- 
ment ;  but  in  the  evening,  the  unlucky  prayer-book  being 
discovered,  he  fairly  turned  the  poor  wight  out-of-doors  to 
get  a  lodging  where  he  could.  You  know  it  was  said  that 
the  Connecticut  "  Blue  Laws  "  made  it  death  for  a  priest, 
meaning  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  to  be 
found  within  that  State.  Thank  heaven,  those  days  are 
passed.  "  God,  liberty,  and  toleration,"  whether  a  man 
prefers  a  prayer-book  to  the  missal,  or  the  kuran  to  a 
prayer-book,  or  a  single  rap  at  a  door  to  the  noise  of  a 
dozen.  Adieu. 

N.  B.  —  You  must  keep  this  letter  a  profound  secret,  as 
we  have  certain  gentlemen  on  our  side  of  the  Atlantic  who 
would,  in  imitation  of  the  noblemen  here,  disturb  their 
neighbors. 


LETTER   XI. 


Londox,  November  19. 
I  was  in  Rosemary  Lane  yesterday ;  in  other  words,  at 
Rag  Fair.  The  shop-keepers  take  the  liberty  of  addressing 
every  one  who  passes,  and  not  infrequently  come  into  the 
street,  take  you  by  the  arm  and  lead  you,  half  forcibly, 
into  their  shops.  Those  who  are  most  clever,  that  is, 
most  troublesome  to  passengers,  arc  called  barkers.  I  was 
accosted  not  less  than  fifteen  times  in  passing  through 
Rosemary  Lane.  Telling  one  I  was  in  no  want  of  old 
clothes,  "  Then,"  said  he,  as  though  he  thought  I  meant  to 
be  witty,  "  you  have  a  wardrobe  to  dispose  of."     I  asked 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         165 

another  what  he  saw  in  my  appearance  which  led  him  to 
suspect  I  wanted  to  purchase  old  clothes.  "  Oh,"  said  he, 
"  we  don't  judge  by  appearances  here  ;  many  a  man  comes 
into  Rosemary  Lane  to  change  his  dress :  some  go  away 
better,  but  most,  worse  dressed."  A  third  asked  me  to 
walk  into  his  shop  if  only  to  see  an  assortment,  which 
for  variety  was  not  to  be  equalled  in  London.  Another 
of  the  trade,  who  was  standing  by,  observed,  he  was  sure  I 
could  not  ask  for  an  article  which  he  could  not  produce. 
After  thinking  a  moment  what  would  be  least  likely  to 
find  its  way  from  New  England  to  Rag  Fair,  I  asked  for  a 
pair  of  Cape  Cod  trousers.  '"Ah,"  said  the  other,  "you 
never  knew  a  Cape  Cod  man  to  sell  his  trousers." 

I  then  asked  the  other,  "  How  do  you  happen  to  know  so 
much  about  me  ?  "  "  Why,  there  is  not  a  man  in  Rosemary 
Lane  who  does  not  know  that  you  came  from  Xew  Eng- 
land." "They  must  be  extremely  clever1  in  their  way,  to 
distinguish  so  quickly  those  who  speak  the  same  language, 
have  the  same  complexion,  and  dress  like  you."  "  It  looks 
a  little  like  instinct,  to  be  sure  ;  but  the  people  in  this  busi- 
ness are,  perhaps,  the  most  clever  of  any  in  the  world." 
"  Then  the  history  of  Rag  Fair  must  be  very  entertaining, 
and  would  mucli  assist  one  in  learning  a  little  of  low  life." 
••  Why.  yes,  it  is  a  great  school ;  the  stock  exchange  affords 
nothing  equal  to  it,  whether  you  wish  to  overreach  your 
fellow,  or  to  become  acquainted  witli  the  sad  vicissitudes 
to  which  trade  is  liable.  Here  are  bankruptcies,  sometimes 
not  less  unexpected  than  those  which  happen  at  the  Royal 
Exchange  ;  and  the  bankrupt  as  frequently  rises  again  in 
sudden  importance,  to  the  surprise  of  the  whole  Fair." 
••  You   must  have  an  abundance  of   anecdotes    respecting 

1  "  Clever,"  in  Now  England,  means  honest,  conscientious:  but  we  do  not 
use  the  word  as  defined  in  the  dictionaries  Nor  is  it  used  here  exactly  in 
its  proper  sense :  a  very  clever  fellow  nobody  will  trust 


166  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

the  knowing  one*  and  the  flats,  of  those  who  have  triumphed 
over  simplicity,  and  of  those  who  have  come  to  London  in 
a  wagon.1     Pray  give  us  an  instance  how  far  a  knowing 

one  is  capable  of  outwitting  a  man  of  common  caution." 
"  Why  there  is  a  story  sometimes  mentioned  at  the  Fair 
that  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  in  passing  through  Rosemary  Lane, 
was  made  a  prize  of  by  a  shopman,  who,  from  Sir  Matthew's 
slovenly  appearance2  and  threadbare  coat,  thought  him  a 
good  speculation.  The  shopman  led  him  by  the  arm  up- 
stairs into  a  dark  room,  and  told  him  he  was  resolved  to 
sell  him  a  new  coat,  for  his  was  no  longer  decent.  Sir 
Matthew  submitted  to  try  on  several  coats,  but  insisted  no 
one  would  fit  him,  and  at  length  was  going  away  without 
purchasing,  when  the  clothesman  said  he  had  one  more 
which  he  was  sure  would  fit  him,  and  brought  one  which 
Sir  Matthew  said  fitted  him  as  well  as  his  old  one ;  the 
difference  between  them  being  paid,  Sir  Matthew  went 
away."  "  Well,  where  is  the  wit  of  all  this  ?  "  "  Why, 
Sir  Matthew  wore  the  same  coat  away  that  he  wore  in." 
"  But  this  is  an  old  story,  and  its  authenticity  rather  doubt- 
ful ;  tell  jue  one  that  happened  lately."  "  I  can  give  you 
an  instance  which  lately  occurred  within  my  own  notice,  of 
a  man  who  in  broad  daylight  bought  his  old  hat  twice  for 
a  new  one."  "  How  was  that  done  ? "  "A  Jew  went  on 
board  a  ship  just  arrived,  and  purchased  among  other 
things  an  old  hat ;  but  it  being  only  weatherworn,  he  soon 
put  a  new  gloss  on  it,  and  within  a  day  or  two  carried  it 
with  several  others  on  board  the  ship,  and  sold  it  to  the 
same  man  of  whom  he  bought  it,  for  it  fitted  him  exactly. 
Soon  after,  the  polish  wearing  off,  he  discovered  that  it 


1  A  wagon-load  of  fools  is  said  to  come  to  London  every  day. 

2  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention  the  anecdote  of  Sir  Matthew's  being 
taken  up  by  a  press-gang  and  carried  on  board  a  tender,  whence  he  was 
obliged  to  write  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  before  he  was  liberated. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  167 

was  the  old  hat.  In  due  time  the  Jew  went  on  board 
again,  and  after  receiving  very  meekly  all  the  abuse  which 
was  offered,  repurchased  the  hat.  Fortunately  it  had  a 
very  broad  brim ;  he  cut  it  smaller,  put  it  into  another 
shape,  gave  it  a  new  gloss,  and  fitted  it  a  second  time 
on  the  same  head." 

Just  as  he  finished  this  story  a  boy,  in  appearance  not 
more  than  ten  years  of  age,  passed  by,  with  as  many  old 
clothes  slung  over  his  back  as  he  could  carry.  "  Do  you 
see  that  little  Jew  ? "  said  the  man  ;  "  by  the  time  he  is 
twenty  he  will  be  the  envy  of  everybody.  He  did  an  ex- 
ploit last  week  which  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  The 
servants  of  a  gentleman  at  the  west  end  of  the  town  had 
sold  a  quantity  of  their  master's  cast-off  clothes  to  a  cer- 
tain Jew  witli  whom  that  boy  was  acquainted.  The  pur- 
chase coming  to  his  knowledge,  he  bought  them  of  his 
friend,  and  the  next  morning  with  the  clothes  slung  over 
his  back  he  proceeded  to  the  gentleman's  house,  and  pacing 

to  and  fro  before  the  door,  began  to  bawl  'Mr. 's  old 

clothes  to  sell.'  The  servants,  hearing  their  master's  name 
repeated,  came  to  the  door,  and  after  discovering  the  Jew's 
design,  found  it  expedient  to  buy  back  the  clothes  at  his 
own  price."  "  Ay,  there  was  some  wit  in  this  ;  but  any 
one  in  the  trade  might  have  newly  glossed  an  old  hat,  or 
cut  a  broad  brim  narrower."  "  No,"  said  he,  "  though  it 
is  very  easy  to  overreach  the  same  man  twice,  yet  to  de- 
ceive him  twice  in  the  same  article  belongs  only  to  Rag 
Fair." 

'•  Pray,  do  you  never  buy  bad  bargains,  and  do  you  know 
just  how  long  a  coat  has  been  worn  ? "  "  Yes,  we  can 
gem  rally  tell  within  an  hour;  and  not  only  how  long 
worn,  but  the  style  of  life  of  the  wearer.  This  coat  was 
an  auctioneer's,  who  was  left  handed.  You  sec,  though 
apparently  a  new  coat,  it  is  quite  threadbare  under  the 


168  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

left  arm ;  when  worn  most  at  the  back,  that  is  the  mark 
of  a  gentleman  ;  if  at  the  left  elbow  and  at  the  right  cuff, 
of  an  author;  if  at  the  shoulder,  of  a  lounger;  if  at  the 
pockets,  it  is  a  sign  of  a  merchant,  stockjobber,  or  attor- 
ney." "  How  do  you  judge  of  small  clothes  ?  "  "  We  can 
speak  more  positively  of  them.  The  profession  is  gener- 
ally found  under  the  hip;  and  if  the  former  owner  had 
no  profession,  it  is  easily  ascertained  whether  he  was  se- 
date or  restless,  whether  his  gait  was  long  or  short.  Here 
was  a  poor  fellow  who  led  a  very  unhappy  life ;  see,  his 
breeches  are  worn  equally  on  both  knees,  in  the  seat,  and 
behind,  and  are  nearly  threadbare,  though  they  could  not 
have  been  worn  more  than  three  weeks.  Here  was  one 
who  had  the  gout  to  a  cruel  degree."  "  But,"  said  I,  "  can 
you  conscientiously  sell  these  clothes  for  new,  even  if  you 
find  a  purchaser  ?  They  would  be  sent  back  to  Rag  Fair 
the  next  day."  "  And  why,"  said  lie,  "  should  this  be  the 
only  honest  trade  in  London  ?  In  these  times  a  poor  man 
cannot  be  honest."  Adieu. 


LETTER  XII. 

London,  November  27. 

The  observations  which  I  shall  make  in  this  letter  will 
necessarily  be  invidious ;  yet  as  they  will  conduce  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  English  system,  I  shall  not  withhold 
them. 

I  seem  to  have  found  in  this  country  a  new  religion,  so 
different  is  its  aspect  from  the  religion  that  prevails  in 
New  England.  Whenever  religion  degenerates  into  cere- 
mony or  becomes  the  crooked  way  of  worldly  ambition,  it 
begets  a  mocking  spirit  in  the  profane  and  the  feeling  of 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  169 

indifference  in  the  more  serious.  The  priest  who,  instead 
of  supporting  the  Cross  of  Christ,  thinks  it  sufficient  to 
wear  a  cross  on  the  hack  of  his  robe,  or  he  who  in  the 
moment  of  a  "nolo  episcopari"  accepts  a  bishopric,  must  ex- 
pect to  meet  with  that  ridicule  to  which  he  is  liable.  "  Whip 
me  "  those  delicate  saints  who  have  exchanged  the  coarse 
garments  of  the  apostles  for  the  courtly  dress  of  the  Phari- 
sees ;  who,  instead  of  challenging  credit  for  the  Gospel  by 
humility,  moderation,  and  meekness,  resort  to  the  pen. 
Christ  never  designed  that  his  religion  should  be  supported 
by  Aristotle's  Logic  or  by  Euclid's  Elements.  The  Gos- 
pel is  an  appeal  to  the  heart ;  its  operation  is  on  the  life, 
and  its  sanction  is  at  the  hour  of  death.  All  the  arguments 
which  depth  of  research  and  acuteness  of  mind  can  bring, 
weigh  not  against  my  disbelief,  if  he  who  brings  them  in- 
habits a  palace  and  gains  another  tithe  by  my  conversion. 
Yet  I  may  be  in  an  error.  Our  Saviour,  you  know,  will  at 
his  second  coming  be  preceded  by  the  sound  of  the  trum- 
pet, and  will  come  in  great  glory.  Now,  to  whom  should 
he  come,  if  not  to  the  heads  of  his  church  ?  Consequently, 
his  reception  ought  to  be  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  tells 
you  that  his  followers  shall  inherit  the  earth  ;  hence  mag- 
nificent state  will  be  evidence  of  heirship.  But  then  Saint 
Peter,  when  (as  it  is  claimed)  he  delivered  the  key  to  the 
bishop  of  Rome,  ought  to  have  told  this,  which  would  have 
secured  his  Holiness,  the  college  of  Cardinals,  and  the 
Lords  Spiritual  from  much  profane  ridicule. 

The  Christian  religion  as  it  is  maintained  in  England 
might  induce  a  stranger  to  believe  it  to  be  a  political  in- 
stitution ;  that  its  duties  are  defined  by  act  of  Parlia- 
ment;  and  that  the  clergy  are  officers  paid  for  carrying 
the  statute  into  effect.  No  matter  whether  there  be  an 
audience  or  not,  the  clergyman  feels  it  his  duty  to  perform 
all   the   sacred   offices ;  and   it    is    still  "  dearly   beloved 


170  LETTERS  FROM   LONDON. 

brethren,"  though  not  a  dearly  beloved  brother  be  present. 
1  was  lately  in  a  church  at  Cheapside  in  which  there  were 
but  eleven  persons,  except  some  little  charity  boys  who 
sung.  Most  of  these  eleven,  I  suspect,  were  strangers  like 
myself.  However,  I  ought  to  observe  it  was  midsummer, 
and  that  the  parishioners  were  probably  gone  into  the 
country  to  take  their  pleasure. 

The  Church  of  England  is  extremely  jealous  of  her  dis- 
senting brethren ;  and  she  ought  to  be  so.  The  ease, 
pomp,  and  magnificence  of  the  one  suffers  a  silcut  repri- 
mand from  the  comparative  simplicity  and  assiduity  of 
the  other.  Hence  the  legislature  should  endeavor  as 
much  as  possible  to  divest  religion  of  its  asperities,  and 
connect  it  with  worldly  pleasure.  To  render  it  a  vital 
principle,  they  should,  observing  a  little  decency,  make  it 
consistent  with  and  a  handmaid  of  worldly  interest. 
Under  such  advantages  the  Church  of  England  must 
flourish,  whatever  may  become  of  the  Church  of  Christ. 

That  the  legislature  has  partially  adopted  this  plan  you 
will  perceive  by  turning  to  Blackstone's  Commentaries.1 
He  observes  :  "  The  keeping  one  day  in  the  seven  holy,  as 
a  time  of  relaxation  and  refreshment  as  well  as  for  public 
worship,  is  of  admirable  service  to  a  State,  considered 
merely  as  a  civil  institution.  It  humanizes,  by  the  help  of 
conversation  and  society,  the  manners  of  the  lower  classes, 
which  would  otherwise  degenerate  into  a  sordid  ferocity  and 
savage  selfishness 2  of  spirit."  Then  he  quotes  the  substance 
of  a  statute  of  1  Charles  the  First :  "  No  persons  shall  as- 
semble out  of  their  own  parishes  for  any  sport  whatever, 
upon  this  day  [Sunday],  nor  in  their  parishes  shall  use  any 
bull  or  bear  baiting,  interludes,  plays,  or  other  unlawful  ex- 
ercises or  pastimes,  on  pain  that  every  offender  shall  pay 

1  Bk.  iv.  chap.  iv.  §  9. 

-  Savages  are  the  least  selfish  of  all  men. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  171 

three  shillings  and  four  pence  to  the  poor.  This  statute 
does  not  prohibit  but  rather  impliedly  allows,  any  innocent 
recreation  or  amusement  within  their  respective  parishes, 
even  on  the  Lord's  day,  after  divine  service  is  over." 

The  object  of  this  statute  was,  I  suspect,  to  turn  Sunday 
into  a  holiday,  and  thereby  divert  the  lower  classes  from 
the  principles  of  the  dissenters ;  especially  as  there  is 
no  accommodation  for  poor  people  in  the  established 
churches. 

No  wonder  the  Christian  religion  shows  so  fair  an  aspect 
in  the  United  States,  for  it  does  not  stand  there  on  the 
stilts  of  politics.  No  establishment,  no  Thirty-nine  Arti- 
cles, no  assistance  from  statute  law,  and  very  little  legis- 
lative interference  impede  its  course.  Indeed,  Rhode 
Island  and  some  few  other  States  do  not  mention  the 
Christian  religion  in  their  Constitutions.  I  had  occasion, 
some  time  since,  to  mention  this  to  an  English  gentleman, 
and  he  seriously  asked  if  there  were  any  churches  in  those 
States !  That  the  Christian  religion  in  Europe  has  so 
successfully  withstood  the  oppressions  which  it  has  under- 
gone from  its  dear  friends  and  most  humble  followers, 
ought  to  excite  the  surprise  of  every  one,  and  affords  it, 
in  my  opinion,  a  more  respectable  sanction  than  it  receives, 
from  having  resisted  the  all-unhinging  and  cool-blooded 
Hume,  the  indefatigable  and  diversified  assaults  of  Voltaire, 
or  the  more  insidious  and  undermining  attempts  of  Gibbon. 
These  great  men,  with  many  others,  have  pecked  a  little 
cement  from  the  edifice,  but  have  not  injured  the  build- 
ing ;  they  have  hurled  a  pebble  at  the  citadel,  but  have  not 
effected  a  breach. 

I  think  it  well  worthy  of  notice  that  the  Gospel,  when 
first  published,  had  nothing  to  fear  but  the  temporal  power, 
and  flourished  in  spite  of  the  civil  authority.  Since  the 
time  of  Constantino  it  has  had   nothimr  to  fear  but  the 


172  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

temporal  power  of  its  friends,  and  it  still  flourishes  not- 
withstanding ;  a  fair  proof  that  if  left  entirely  to  its  own 
influence  on  the  heart,  it  is  capable  of  going  alone,  and 
stands  in  no  need  of  a  great  cradle  and  Thirty-nine  leading 
strings. 

In  passing  through  Smithfield  the  other  morning,  I  could 
not  cease  blessing  the  spirit  of  toleration  which,  in  favor 
of  humanity,  has  surpassed  the  most  sanguine  expectations 
of  the  wisest  men  of  former  days.  Their  inferences,  it 
appears,  were  drawn  from  persecution  rather  than  from 
any  experience  of  toleration.  They  reasoned  that  because 
persecution  did  not  harmonize  the  people,  unlimited  tolera- 
tion1 would  only  induce  mutual  war.  It  has  remained  for 
us  to  prove  that  it  was  entirely  owing  to  the  temporal 
power  that  religion  has  exhibited  such  an  unaccommo- 
dating spirit.  For  the  honor  of  the  United  States  let  me 
observe  that  the  spirit  of  toleration  is  there  so  transcend- 
antly  liberal  that  the  whole  of  the  five  hundred  and  fifty- 
six  sects  might  unite  in  any  of  our  cities,  notwithstanding 
New  England  once  made  the  gross  blunder  of  mistaking 
Quakers  for  scapegoats  and  paschal  lambs  —  so  operative  is 
the  Federal  Constitution  on  a  species  of  derangement  which 
once  knew  no  remedy  but  bulls,  ropes,  and  fagots.  In  New 
England,  the  Christian  may  worship  his  Trinity,  the  deist 
his  one  God,  and  the  atheist,  if  he  please,  the  fortuitous 
concurrence  of  atoms.  The  Roman  Catholic  may  quietly 
enjoy  his  purgatory,  his  seven  sacraments,  and  transub- 
stantiation.  The  Mahometan  may  publicly  assert  his  kuran 
to  be  of  greater  authority  than  the  Bible,  and  prove  his 
position  from  the  pulpit  of  his  mosque.     The  Persian  may 

1  Oar  country  has  proved  the  contrary ;  the  many  religions  in  the  United 
States  have  disclosed  a  new  and  godlike  trait  in  human  character.  Far 
from  embittering  the  dispositions  of  the  various  sects,  difference  of  sentiment 
excites  to  mutual  tolerance  and  virtuous  emulation. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  173 

adore  the  sun,  the  heathen  his  idols,  and  the  Indian  the 
Devil ;  while  the  Manichean,  who  is  not  content  with  one 
great  First  Cause,  is  allowed  two  gods. 

A  philosopher  cannot  contemplate  this  picture  without 
rapture  ;  for  he  is  necessarily  carried  back  to  those  days 
of  religious  accommodation  when  the  conquerors  of  the 
world  plundered  the  gods  of  their  enemies,  —  not  to  de- 
stroy them,  but  to  give  them  a  more  respectable  station  at 
Rome.  What  would  be  his  surprise  when  informed  that 
each  individual  member  of  these  five  hundred  and  fifty-six 
sects  is  eligible  not  only  to  all  the  subordinate  offices  of 
government,  but  even  to  the  Presidency  !  The  Federal 
Constitution  is  pervaded  by  this  spirit,  but  some  of  the 
State  governments  are  not  quite  so  liberal. 

The  good  sense  of  the  clergy  of  the  United  States  will 
lead  them  to  favor  the  most  unlimited  toleration  ;  for  if 
there  ever  should  be  an  Established  Church,  the  great  body 
of  the  clergy  would  sink  in  the  same  degree  in  which  a 
few  of  the  most  intriguing  and  ambitious  were  exalted. 
This  is  the  case  in  England,  where  thousands  of  poor 
devils  are  bound  to  a  system  which  subjects  them  to  the 
contempt  of  their  co-religionists. 

This  letter  is  already  sufficiently  long,  therefore 

Adieu. 


LETTER  XIII. 


London,  December  16. 

At  present,  I  have  only  a  few  observations  to  make  ;  so 
I  shall  fill  up  this  letter  with  any  matter  that  occurs. 

Nothing  has  afforded  me  more  amusement  than  a  certain 
class  of  Englishmen.    The  class  to  which  I  refer  is  com- 


174  LETTERS   FROM   LONDON. 

posed  of  those  who  have  unexpectedly  come  to  wealth, 
some  few  of  those  who  are  earnestly  in  pursuit  of  fortune 
and  whose  affairs  are  flourishing,  but  principally  of  those 
who  have  spent  their  fortunes,  and  yet  are  resolved  to  sup- 
port appearances. 

These  characters  sport  themselves  before  the  public  on 
all  occasions,  and  are  as  tenacious  of  the  title  of  "  gentle- 
man" as  though  they  suspected  that  every  one  was  about 
to  dispute  the  point  with  them.  When  they  appear  in 
public  they  do  not  seem  to  observe  anybody,  yet  they  indi- 
rectly tell  you  that  they  themselves  are  the  only  persons  in 
the  street.  Still  there  is  a  certain  something  in  their  de- 
meanor which  courts  attention,  as  though  they  said,  "Look 
at  me."  Many  of  them  appear  to  be  in  a  pillory,  owing  to 
the  quantity  of  their  cravats,  and  to  the  two  wings  of  their 
shirt-collar,  for  fear  of  disarranging  which,  they  are  obliged 
to  turn  their  whole  bodies  with  their  heads ;  hence  if  they 
wish  to  view  the  whole  horizon,  they  are  obliged  to  make 
several  right  angles.  One  eye,  if  it  were  fixed  in  their 
foreheads,  would  serve  these  gentlemen  for  all  purposes. 

Of  the  various  expedients  of  raising  money  to  which 
Mr.  Pitt  has  resorted,  that  of  laying  a  tax  on  strutting 
would  not  have  been  the  most  unsuccessful.  For  the  gen- 
erality of  the  English  who  attach  any  consequence  to  them- 
selves, arc  addicted  to  this  affected  manner  of  walking. 
Some  of  these  gentlemen,  you  might  imagine,  must  meet 
with  the  saddest  accidents ;  for  they  resolutely  proceed 
straight  forward,  in  defiance  of  all  opposition,  whether 
from  wheelbarrows  and  posts,  or  from  persons  of  their 
own  description  who  are  approaching  with  an  air  equally 
determined.  Yet,  I  know  not  how  it  happens,  they  meet 
with  few  serious  misfortunes,  though  I  have  seen  a  col- 
lision between  two  persons,  when  it  was  necessary  for  each, 
before   they  could   pass,  to   make  an  angle  of   forty-five 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  175 

degrees.  But  these  gentlemen  are  liable  to  another  acci- 
dent, much  more  serious  than  a  flesh  wound.  In  the  rainy 
seasons  the  square  stones  on  the  way-side  sometimes  be- 
come loose ;  and  mischievous  boys  remove  the  earth  from 
under  them,  balance  them  on  props,  and  form  what  they 
inhumanly  call  beau  traps.  Now,  a  man  who  never  lowers 
his  eves  is  very  likely  to  fall  into  these  insidious  snares. 

"Why  .should  the  generality  of  mankind  differ  so  much  in 
their  demeanor  ?  The  scholar,  the  soldier,  the  sailor,  and 
some  other  persons  have  professional  peculiarities  ;  but  the 
great  body  of  the  people  in  a  free  country  ought  to  have 
that  ingenuous  carriage  which  bespeaks  a  conscious  dig- 
nity, equally  distant  from  insolence  and  servility.  It  is 
scarcely  expected  in  England  that  a  poor  man  should  have 
the  principle  of  fixed  virtue  ;  and  if  one  in  authority  ne- 
glects the  opportunity  of  robbing  the  public,  that  is 
accounted  a  rare  effort  of  virtue,  and  worthy  of  a  monu- 
ment ;  on  the  other  hand,  if  one  of  the  lowest  class  should 
by  mistake,  in  the  dark,  receive  a  guinea  instead  of  a 
shilling  and  return  it  the  next  morning,  it  is  matter  for 
the  public  papers.     Carere  vitio,  habetur  pro  virtnte.1 

The  lowest  class,  both  men  and  women,  have  a  careless, 
undefined,  abandoned  carriage,  which  indicates  their  con- 
sciousness of  being  little  better  than  outlaws  from  the 
community  ;  yet  they  are  far  from  being  destitute  of  gen- 
erous feelings,  though  in  appearance  they  have  not  even 
the  outward  show  of  humanity. 

The  character  of  the  English  is  more  complex  than  that 
of  any  other  people  in  Europe.  I  shall  in  some  future 
letter  take  occasion  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  this, 
otherwise  one  is  in  danger  of  knowing  this  people  only  by 
halves.      A  part  of  their  character  might  induce  you  to 

1  Virtus  est  vitium  fugere,  et  sapientia  prima  stultitia  caruisse.  —  Ilorat 
EpUt.  i.  1,41. 


176  LETTEKS  PROM   LONDON'. 

imagine  them  a  feeble,  Inefficient,  secondary  race  of  men  ; 
but  you  would  be  greatly  mistaken.  The  English  are  never 
greater  than  on  those  occasions  when  most  men  would 
despair.  They  are  restless  under  uncertainty,  fearful  from 
contingency,  undone  from  anticipation  ;  but  mark  out  the 
time  when,  with  its  duration,  and  the  place  where,  let  the 
sum  total  of  what  they  are  required  to  endure  be  precisely 
calculated,  connect  these  circumstances  with  the  honor  of 
Old  England,  and  they  are  equal  to  all  occasions.  They 
submit  to  phantoms  of  their  own  creation,  but  can  bear 
real  misfortune  with  complacency. 

I  have  imagined,  I  know  not  with  what  degree  of  truth, 
that  the  English,  more  than  any  other  people,  require  some 
object  of  attention,  without  which  they  seem  to  stagnate. 
The  Spaniard,  if  he  have  nothing  to  do,  will  swing  in  his 
hammock  until  he  is  weary,  and  after  that  will  swing  him- 
self to  rest.  The  Dutchman  will  sit  in  a  happy  vacancy 
until  some  vocation  arouses  him.  The  Frenchman  is  in  no 
hurry  to  force  himself  on  an  opportunity,  but  is  ready  to 
embrace  it  when  offered ;  and  in  the  mean  time,  he  is  con- 
tent to  give  himself  up  to  levity.  Not  so  the  Englishman  ; 
his  mind  preys  on  itself  in  that  state  of  calmness  which 
to  some  is  the  moment  of  most  perfect  beatitude.  That 
happy  languor  which  is  the  repose  of  the  soul  sinks  his 
heart  to  despondency.  Wake  him  to  activity,  agitate 
him,  arouse  him  even  to  desperation,  but  do  not  expect  to 
soothe  him  with  the  happy  leisure  or  the  monotonous  pan- 
egyric of  the  blessed.  Otherwise,  how  can  you  account  for 
it  that  a  man  who  from  an  humble  situation  and  humbler 
prospects  should  raise  himself  to  great  fortune,  gaining 
the  proudest  name  of  all  his  contemporaries,  and  display- 
ing a  readiness  of  expediency  which  in  times  of  the  utmost 
difficulty  propped,  restored,  and  established  a  tottering 
empire,  should   in  the  prime  of   life,   after  retiring  with 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         177 

all    that   wealth  and   honor   could   confer,  hang  himself? 
Such  a  man  was  Robert  Lord  Clive. 

But  this  is  an  extreme  case,  and  ought  not  to  be  ex- 
tended beyond  an  individual  illustration,  like  that  of  the 
Roman  in  the  reign  of  Nero  who  came  to  a  resolution  to 
starve  himself,  and  persisted  in  his  design  notwithstanding 
the  urgent  request  of  Nero  to  the  contrary,  with  whom  he 
was  mi  terms  of  intimacy  ;  for  Nero,  tender  of  his  own 
reputation,  observed,  "  My  enemies  would  attribute  the 
secret  cause  of  my  friend's  death  to  myself." 

The  entire  history  of  this  people  proves  them  to  be  a 
singular  compound  of  strength  and  weakness.  They  are 
utterly  incapable  of  enjoying  what  their  valor  has  so  fre- 
quently accomplished,  and  they  do  not  know  how  to  exert 
their  strength  for  any  personal  advantage.  If  main  force 
only  be  requisite,  they  can  wield  the  club  of  Theseus,  and 
like  him  bend  the  stoutest  tree  of  the  forest,  but  they  can- 
not, like  Theseus,  follow  Ariadne's  clew  through  the  laby- 
rinth. After  having  conquered  their  enemies  by  force  of 
arms,  they  have  generally  in  their  turn  been  conquered  by 
force  of  treaty.  Nothing  more  strongly  marks  the  do- 
mestic character  of  this  people  than  their  famous  conduct 
at  the  close  of  the  Revolution  of  1688.  They  had  then  a 
fine  opportunity  of  making  the  best  possible  bargain  for 
themselves  with  their  rulers;  but  by  a  most  stupid  con- 
tract, they  conveyed  themselves  and  their  posterity  to  the 
House  of  Hanover.  Mr.  Burke  seriously  advanced  the 
same  thing,  which  not  a  little  surprised  the  nation,  who 
for  more  than  a  century  had  fancied  themselves  free.  I 
believe  it  is  not  known  in  England  that  De  Loltne,  who 
wrote  without  reference  to  party,  has  established  the  same 
point  in  his  essay  on  the  Constitution  of  England. 

Adieu. 


178  LETTEBS  Fliu.u  LONDON. 


LETTER   XIV. 


London,  December  26. 

The  English  who  visit  the  United  States  complain  of  the 
lark  of  attention  from  those  who  wait  on  them.  For  my 
part  I  am  disposed  to  complain,  but  for  a  very  different 
reason.  I  am  even  incommoded  and  not  infrequently  dip- 
concerted  by  being  so  officiously  attended  as  one  is  obliged 
to  be  by  the  English  servants.  I  had  supposed,  when  in 
the  United  States,  that  the  lowest  classes  of  the  English 
ought  naturally  to  be  the  most  insolent  and  unaccommo- 
dating of  all'  beings.  Enjoying  under  the  Constitution  the 
same  degree  of  liberty  with  the  higher  orders,  and  yet  in 
fact  retained  eternally  in  a  situation  from  which  no 
docility  of  nature  and  no  impulse  of  ambition  can  redeem 
them,  they  ought  to  possess  the  ferocity  of  the  savage, 
without  his  generous  sentiments. 

Matthew  Prior  is  the  only  Englishman  that  I  recollect 
who  ever  burst  the  fetters  of  servitude  and  rose  to  emi- 
nence. This  instance  is  not  a  fair  one.  Prior  was  a  vine 
which  must  forever  have  run  on  the  ground,  had  he  not 
met  with  a  great  man  around  whom  to  twine.  Prior  ex- 
hibited afterward,  it  is  true,  abilities  of  the  first  order  ;  but 
had  he  not  been  a  poet  and  fond  of  the  writings  of  Horace, 
his  abilities  would  only  have  rendered  him  a  worse  servant. 

It  was  thought  a  wonderful  occurrence  that  Philip  York 
should  become  Lord  Chancellor  Hardwickc  ;  yet  Philip 
York  had  in  the  early  part  of  his  life  as  great  advantages 
as  the  sons  of  noblemen  usually  enjoy.  What  would  an 
Englishman  say,  were  he  told  that  the  speaker  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States  was  born  in 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  179 

Scotland,  and  not  many  years  since  sold  himself  for  his 
passage,  and  redeemed  himself  by  manual  labor  '.' 

What  do  you  imagine  is  the  tie  which  restrains  the  Eng- 
lish servants  in  this  ready  servility  to  their  masters  ?  You 
observe  I  use  the  terms  servants  and  masters.  A  servant  is 
not  offended  if  you  ask  him  where  his  master  is.  It  is  but 
a  day  or  two  since  a  man  forty  years  old  told  me  if  I 
would  wait  a  moment  his  master  would  be  at  home.  Pres- 
ently a  young  man  appeared.  "  That,"  said  the  servant, 
"is  my  master."  Should  one  ask  a  person  in  the  United 
States  where  his  master  is,  lie  would  doubtless  meet  with  a 
rough  reply  ;  for  in  truth  there  are  no  such  titles  in  the 
United  States  as  master  and  servant.  I  will  now  tell  you 
the  reason  why  the  English  make  such  excellent  servants  : 
They  have  three  things  before  their  eyes,  —  servitude  for 
life,  Botany  Bay.  and  the  gallows.  Servitude  they  most  com- 
monly esteem  the  least  of  the  three  evils ;  yet  even  this 
has  its  terrors,  for  if  masters  dismiss  servants  without  a 
character,  they  arc  undone.  Their  habits  and  education, 
or  rather  want  of  education,  rendering  them  useless,  they 
are  forced  to  enter  the  lowest  class  of  that  great  body  of 
men  who  live  at  the  public  expense. 

The  English  complain  of  their  servants,  and  think  them 
the  most  worthless  beings  on  earth.  So  do  I ;  but  if  they 
had  to  deal  with  the  generality  of  our  servants,  they  would 
soon  change  their  tone,  or  what  is  more  likely,  change 
places  with  them. 

Voltaire  says  that  the  vulgar  in  England,  less  than  in 
any  other  country  in  the  world,  fashion  their  manners 
after  those  of  the  nobility.  This  ought  to  excite  a  smile. 
Should  one  of  the  common  people  here  endeavor  to  imitate 
a  nobleman,  his  impudence  would  cither  mark  him  for  an 
idiot  or  exclude  him  from  all  employment 

The  servants  in  England  are  not  exactly  what  they  ought 


180  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

to  be.  Where  the  fathers  and  sons  for  man}-  generations 
are  likely  to  be  servants  during  their  lives,  it  is  of  great 
consequence  that  they  should  possess  as  little  as  possible 
the  dress,  manners,  Or  feelings  of  men.  They  should  be 
bred  in  the  most  profound  ignorance,  and  be  taught  from 
their  infancy  to  consider  themselves  a  distinct  species. 
To  impress  this  more  deeply,  they  should  be  disfigured  as 
much  as  may  be  consistent  with  their  usefulness;  both  of 
their  ears  might  be  spared,  so  might  their  noses.  It  might 
injure  their  health  to  paint  them,  but  it  is  a  pity  that  a 
dyestuff  could  not  be  invented,  through  which  perspira- 
tion might  pass.  In  short,  they  should  in  all  respects 
be  treated  like  beasts  of  burden,  —  though  I  hardly  go  so 
far  as  Cato  the  Censor,  who  advises  that  when  servants 
are  grown  old  and  infirm  they  be  sold. 

The  surprising  difference  which  is  observable  between 
the  English  servants  and  our  own  is  not  entirely  owing  to 
the  influence  which  the  Federal  Constitution  has  on  the 
character  of  the  American  servant.  The  English  servant 
is  chained  to  a  servitude  which  in  many  respects  is  little 
removed  from  helotism.  He  has  no  imagination,  no  ambi- 
tion :  a  holiday  or  a  debauch  bounds  his  hopes,  and  fully 
gratifies  his  wishes.  In  the  United  States,  on  the  contrary, 
a  servant's  imagination  is  ever  on  the  wing  ;  he  calculates 
even  to  a  day,  and  that  day  not  distant,  when  he  shall  be 
as  independent  as  the  person  whom  he  serves.  He  in- 
dulges the  most  flattering  prospects,  feels  himself  already  a 
freeman,  and  wanders  in  his  fancy  through  scenes  of 
future  life,  or  reposes  from  labor  in  the  cool  of  his  own 
shade.  As  he  approaches  personal  independence,  he  ex- 
pects deference  from  his  master  and  from  his  fellow- 
countrymen  ;  while  his  master,  foreseeing  how  soon  his 
servant  may  be  his  equal,  is  disposed  to  facilitate  the  ap- 
proaching equality.     Hence  the  American  servant  shows 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  181 

nothing   of  that  humble,  debasing  demeanor  which  is  so 
apparent  in  the  English  servant. 

I  confess  the  majestic  carriage  of  our  servants  would 
revolt  the  feelings  of  one  accustomed  to  travel  the  Bath 
road;  for  he  might  be  in  danger  of  starving  before  he 
could  learn  the  language  of  the  country. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XV. 


London,  January  17, 1803. 

I  was  at  the  theatre  last  evening,  where  I  saw  their 
Majesties  with  three  of  the  princesses.  Nunc  scio  quid 
Bint  Rex  et  Regina.  They  all  behaved  with  great  defer- 
ence to  the  spectators,  and  the  queen  in  particular  seemed 
happy.  We  half-civilized  folk  in  the  United  States  can 
form  no  conception  of  the  solemn  pomp,  the  dignified  im- 
portance and  sacred  reverence  which  accompany  these 
awful  exhibitions  of  royalty.  On  such  happy  occasions, 
the  cold  feelings  of  our  people  would  look  like  pointed 
disaffection. 

The  box  in  which  their  Majesties  sat  was  fitted  up  on 
purpose,  while  the  trappings  reminded  one  of  the  style  of 
Persian  monarchs.  How  an  English  courtier  would  have 
laughed  on  seeing  the  late  President  and  his  wife,  without 
:.  without  attendants,  without  any  peculiarity  to 
distinguish  them  from  the  other  citizens,  take  their  seats 
in  the  theatre  at  Boston  ! 

As  soon  as  their  Majesties  appeared  in  the  front  of 
their  box  a  tumult  of  applause  began,  which,  had  it  been 
cordial,  must  have  been  really  pleasing.     As  all  this  was 


182  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

nothing  to  me,  I  sunk  into  a  revery,  and  thought  of  Tima- 
goras  the  Athenian.  After  the  noise  was  over  their  Majesties 
sat  down,  and  the  favorite  song  "  God  save  great  George 
our  King,"  l  was  sung  several  times  by  the  whole  posse 
theatri.  This  completed  the  royal  reception.  When  the 
entertainments  were  concluded,  the  same  solemnities  fin- 
ished the  f  vening. 

The  king  is  a  fine,  healthy-looking  man,  and  if  he  do 
not  die  of  apoplexy,  "  is  good  for  fifteen  or  twenty  years," 
as  the  life  insurers  say.  He  wore  a  sort  of  half  wig,  so  I 
could  not  discover  whether  hard  times  had  caused  his  hair 
prematurely  to  turn  gray.  Poor  man !  I  could  not  but 
pity  him,  for  it  is  not  altogether  his  fault  that  he  has 
fallen  into  so  many  bad  hands.  He  made  constant  use  of 
an  opera  glass  ;  it  is  a  royal  custom,  I  suppose,  to  sec 
with  artificial  eyes. 

If  the  countenance  is  indicative  of  the  disposition,  his 
Majesty  has  a  very  good  heart ;  and  he  has  more  intellect 
than  yon  would  judge  from  his  likeness  on  the  coin.  On 
the  whole,  I  looked  at  him  with  a  considerable  degree  of 
complacency ;  for  though  kingly  government  might  orig- 
inally have  been  elective,  all  hereditary  government  is 
founded,  directly  or  indirectly,  on  usurpation  ;  yet  where 
a  people  acquiesce,  this  usurpation,  at  least  during  the 
acquiescence,  receives  a  popular  sanction. 

The  three  princesses  were  to  me  objects  of  commisera- 
tion. I  viewed  them  as  the  wretched  victims  of  political 
expediency.  "  Born  under  the  agonies  of  self-denial  and 
renounced  desire," 2  amidst  the  mockery  of  a  court  they 
endure  the  penance  of  a  nunnery.  How  can  that  woman 
be  happy  who  feels  herself  alone  in  the  midst  of  millions, 

1  Not  so  the  generous  Cathmor ;  he  retired  when  his  praise  was  sung. 
"  The  voice  of  Fouar  rose  in  praise  of  Cathmor,  son  of  Larthon  ,  but  Cathmor 
.lid  nut  hear  his  praise.     He  lay  at  the  roar  of  a  stream."  —  Ossian,  Temora. 

2  Lavater's  Aphorisms. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  183 

not  one  of  whom  regards  her  more  than  a  piece  of  State 
furniture  ?  The  heart  must  have  some  object  on  which  to 
repose,  or  it  will  prey  on  itself.  The  trappings  of  royalty, 
the  idiotic  applause  of  thousands,  and  the  elevation  of 
momentary  pride,  heightened  by  contrast,  leave  but  tran- 
sient impressions  which  lose  their  importance  with  every 
recurrence.  In  such  a  miserable  state  there  is  not  even 
play  for  a  woman's  vanity,  for  she  is  above  the  tempta- 
tion to  be  vain ;  nor  can  she  have  any  desire  to  please, 
for  a  withered  heart  knows  no  pleasure. 

Behind  their  Majesties  and  the  princesses  stood  certain 
ladies  and  gentlemen  "  in  waiting."  Having  noticed  the 
fact  that  they  had  been  standing  two  hours,  and  thinking 
it  rather  singular,  I  asked  the  person  who  sat  next  to  me 
why  they  did  not  sit  down.  He  smiled  at  my  ignorance, 
and  told  me  that  etiquette  required  them  to  stand.  Those 
who  stood  behind  their  Majesties  were  Earls.  I  know  not 
what  may  be  the  sentiments  or  feelings  of  Earls,  but  of  this 
I  am  sure :  there  is  not  an  earldom  in  England  which 
could  tempt  me  to  staud  two  hours  behind  their  Majesties' 
chairs.1 

At  the  close  of  the  entertainment,  the  royal  family  were 
escorted  home  under  a  very  strong  guard  with  drawn 
cutla.-- 

After  witnessing  all  this  etiquette  and  solemn  ceremony, 
which  certainly  was  well  calculated  to  astonish  weak  minds, 
I  could  not  help  reverting  to  our  own  country,  and  figuring 
to  in  ■.  si'lf  George  Washington,  after  his  return  to  private 
life,  sitting  as  foreman  of  a  country  jury  ;  or,  to  give  a 
r  contrast  to  European  mummery,  I  might  men- 
tion the  late  President  Adams,  who,  at  a  conflagration  in 
Philadelphia,  stood  two  hours  handing  buckets  of  water. 

1  The  fact  is,  the  gentlemen-in-waiting  stand  four  hours,  or  during  the 
whole  entertainment ;  the  ladies  are  relieved  every  two  hours. 


184  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

Certainly,  no  man  can  contemplate  with  indifference  the 
chief  magistrate  of  six  millions  of  people  —  '- dispari  gen- 
ere  .  .  .  alius  alio  more  viventcs,"  - —  a  plebeian  among 
plebeians,  and  feeling  more  secure  in  the  midst  of  his 
fellow-citizens  than  if  he  were  guarded  with  a  legion  of 
cavalry.  Would  not  Mr.  Jefferson  be  mortified  if  Con- 
gress should  vote  him  a  guard  ?  Would  he  not  say :  "  I 
never  feel  more  secure  than  when  surrounded  by  my 
fellow-countrymen.  Have  I  lost  their  confidence  to  the 
degree  that  personal  protection  is  thought  necessary?" 

I  should  like  to  dwell  on  this  subject,  but  it  might 
appear  invidious.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XVI. 


London*,  January  30. 

You  are  quite  voluminous  in  your  questions  ;  but  they 
are  all  interesting,  as  well  to  myself  as  to  you.  The  most 
important :  "  Whether  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
appears  at  this  distance  more  or  less  capable  of  supporting 
itself  on  its  own  inherent  strength,"  demands  an  entire 
letter ;  and  to  satisfy  you,  a  more  labored  one  than  I  can 
at  present  write. 

Literature  cannot  be  expected,  at  present,  to  flourish  in 
the  United  States  as  luxuriantly  as  it  will  in  a  few  years. 
The  useful  naturally  precedes  the  ornamental, —  cottages 
were  built  long  before  the  Temple  of  the  Muses.  The 
equality  of  condition  in  the  United  States,  together  with 
the  excellent  policy  of  dividing  estates  equally  among  all 
the  children,  obliges  the  citizens  to  become  the  builders  of 
their  own  fortunes.  Either  agriculture  or  commerce  in- 
1  Sallust.  Cataliua,  vi. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  185 

sures  the  decencies  of  life  to  industry  or  enterprise  ;  and 
the  young  man  whose  talents  might  have  ranked  him  high 
on  the  hill  of  science  scarcely  hesitates  whether  to  prefer 
a  habitation  on  the  fertile  banks  of  the  Mississippi  to  a 
more  elevated  seat  on  Parnassus.  Hence  you  find  many 
more  men  of  talent,  not  to  say  genius,  than  scholars.  We 
have  a  few  passable  scholars,  but  not  one  of  them  happens 
to  be  a  man  of  genius  ;  and  we  have  many  citizens  of  first- 
rate  ability,  but  none  of  them  are  scholars.  The  mere 
scholar  can  never  claim  more  than  the  merit  of  scholar- 
ship. The  man  of  genius,  for  the  reason  just  stated,  is 
obliged  in  the  early  part  of  life  to  neglect  his  scholarship 
for  worldly  pursuits ;  and  by  the  time  he  is  in  easy  cir- 
cumstances it  is  too  late  to  become  a  scholar. 

Had  D.,  P.,  L.,  or  J.,  preferred  the  society  of  the  Muses 
to  the  courts  of  law  or  the  practice  of  physic,  the  banks  of 
the  Thames  had  as  frequently  echoed  their  labors  as  the 
banks  of  the  Ohio  resound  with  the  periods  of  Burke,  the 
dignified  narrative  of  Robertson,  or  the  more  stately  tenor 
of  Gibbon  ;  while  England,  though  she  could  not  boast  of 
them  as  subjects,  would  assert  her  claim  to  them  as 
authors.  It  is  really  a  loss  to  the  community,  that  such 
men,  capable  of  attaining  to  the  highest  style  of  literature, 
and  who  might  have  produced  new  truths  or  destroyed 
sanctioned  error,  should  suffer  their  abilities  to  evaporate 
witli  the  fleeting  occurrences  which  give  rise  to  their  exer- 
tions. Those  whom  God  has  endued  with  superior  powers 
owe  it  to  patriotism,  to  their  fellow-citizens,  to  posterity, 
to  leave  behind  them  some  monument  more  durable  than 
a  tombstone  and  more  interesting  than  '•  Here  lies  the 
body."  What  though  the  architecture  of  their  minds  in- 
dicates different  orders  ?  In  the  collision  of  contending 
principles  the  brightest  sparks  arc  elicited.  What  though 
the  world  can  scarcely  contain  the  conflicting  parties  when 


186  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

living  ?  The  same  monument  becomes  their  memorial 
when  dead.  Rousseau  and  Voltaire  met  at  last  in  the  Pan- 
theon ;  while  Butler  and  Milton  may  shake  hands  in  West- 
minster Abbey.  Nor  is  the  benefit  to  posterity  less  on  this 
account.  The  labors  of  Burke  and  Paine  find  a  place  on 
the  same  shelf ;  nor  do  the  bickerings  of  Sallust  and  Cicero 
derogate  from  their  individual  merit.  Nature  has  wisely 
ordained  that  amidst  the  vicissitudes  of  human  life  the 
human  mind  shall  partake  of  these  vicissitudes ;  other- 
wise, if  immutable  principles  were  adopted,  mankind  would 
become  too  deeply  rooted  in  habit,  would  be  rendered  in- 
capable of  pursuing  the  expedient,  and  would  always  con- 
flict with  accident,  emergency,  or  novel  circumstance.  A 
few  great  moral  principles  are,  and  ever  have  been,  ac- 
knowledged ;  but  the  minor  morals  and  all  those  principles 
founded  in  convenience,  vary  with  time,  arc  subject  to 
revolution,  and  obedient  to  contingency. 

When  the  sciences  shall  be  cultivated  in  the  United 
States,  those  branches  which  relate  to  civil  polity,  or  to 
speak  more  generally,  all  that  which  is  connected  with  or 
relative  to  man,  will  be  treated  in  a  manner  which  must 
shock  the  feelings  of  all  Europe,  and  oppose  the  principles 
of  all  ages.  From  the  Stagyrite  down  to  the  no  less 
powerful  oracle  of  Lichfield,  the  legitimacy  of  those  hoary 
sanctions  of  established  authority  will  be  disputed;  while 
the  great  advantage  which  the  United  States  will  afford 
of  appealing  to  facts,1  and  to  the  successful  operation  of 
principles  which  have  hitherto  been  deemed  impracticable 
merely  because  they  were  never  permitted  an  opportunity 
of  trial,  will  challenge  respect  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
and,  what  is  all-important,  will  confirm  our  fellow-citizens 

1  "  Human  experience,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "  which  is  constantly  contra- 
dicting, is  the  great  test  of  truth."  But  in  Europe,  human  experience  has 
never  had  a  {air  trial. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  187 

in  their  attachment  to  a  Constitution  which  seems  to  em- 
brace all  possible  good  with  least  possible  evil. 

But  you  must  not  imagine  the  people  of  England  are 
more  intelligent  than  the  people  of  the  United  States.  It 
is  the  reverse  ;  there  is  much  more  useful  information  and 
practical  common-sense  among  our  citizens  than  among 
the  generality  of  the  English.  In  the  United  States,  a 
man's  mind  is  early  awakened  to  reflection  and  comparison. 
He  feels  that  he  is  a  member  of  the  body  politic  ;  he  takes 
a  lively  interest  in  public  affairs,  and  probably  looks  for- 
ward to  some  office  in  his  town,  county,  or  State.  Hence 
the  country  people  in  the  United  States,  whose  occupation 
in  England  would  be,  an  evidence  of  their  profound  igno- 
rance, frequently  surprise  you  with  information  which  no 
man  would  have  been  at  the  trouble  of  acquiring  had  he 
not  foreseen  a  possibility  of  bringing  it  to  public  view. 
Not  long  since,  I  found  a  shoemaker  reading  De  Lolnie  on 
•  i  English  Constitution  while  his  leather  was  soaking  in 
the  tub.  Taking  the  book  into  my  hand,  I  observed  that  he 
had  marked  the  following  passage,  which  refers  to  the  con- 
duct of  a  popular  assembly  in  the  act  of  legislating :  — 

"  But  as  very  few  among  them  have  previously  considered  the 
subjects  on  which  they  are  called  upon  to  determine,  very  few  carry 
along  with  them  any  opinion  or  inclination,  or  at  least  any  inclina- 
tion of  their  own,  and  to  which  they  are  resolved  to  adhere.  As, 
however,  it  is  necessary  at  last  to  come  to  some  resolution,  the 
major  part  of  them  are  determined  by  reasons  which  they  would 
blush  to  pay  any  regard  to  on  much  less  serious  occasions.  An 
unusual  sight,  a  change  of  the  ordinary  place  of  the  assembly,  a 
sudden  disturbance,  a  rumor,  are,  amidst  the  general  want  of  a  spirit 
of  decision,  the  sufficient  ratio  of  the  determination  of  the  greatest 
part ;  and  from  this  assemblage  of  separate  wills,  thus  formed 
hastily  and  without  reflection,  a  general  will  results,  which  is  also 
void  of  reflection."  * 

1  De  Lolme  on  the  Constitution  of  England,  bk.  ii.  5. 


188  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

"  Why,"  said  the  shoemaker,  "Mr.  Dc  Lolnie  attributes 
this  conduct  to  the  Romans,  and  is  happy  to  take  occasion 
from  such  instances  to  abuse  the  democratic  form  of  gov- 
ernment. Now,  our  government  is  much  more  popular 
than  the  ancient  democracies,  except  in  the  particular  in- 
stance he  lias  mentioned,  of  direct  legislation;  and  the 
temporary  resigning  of  which  into  the  hands  of  those 
whom  we  from  time  to  time  delegate  is  not  in  fact  dis- 
claiming the  prerogative,  but  legislating  by  proxy.  So  De 
Lolme's  observations  do  not,  in  this  respect,  apply  to  our 
democratic  system  ;  but,"  he  added,  "  I  am  not  disposed 
to  quarrel  with  De  Lolme.  He  could  not  foresee  that  we 
should  spoil  certain  of  his  positions :  his  work  is  a  fine 
panegyric  and  deserves  a  statue." 

No ;  the  republic  of  letters  has  not  become  an  aris- 
tocracy in  our  country.  Knowledge  seems  to  follow  the 
law  of  inheritance,  and  is  pretty  equally  distributed.  Thus 
a  competent  portion  of  learning  is  found  in  every  town: 
aud  though  Pope's  famous  couplet  may  be  objected,  — 

"  A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing  ; 
Drink  deep,  or  taste  not  the  Pierian  spring," 

yet,  like  many  more  of  his  verses,  they  are  perfect  non- 
sense. A  little  learning  with  a  weak  head  will  often  be 
less  beneficial  than  profound  ignorance  ;  but  even  in  this 
case,  a  little  will  be  less  dangerous  than  deep  learning.  A 
man  of  common-sense  is  never  rendered  a  fool  by  a  little 
learning.  Mr.  Pope  owes  his  fame  to  his  genius,  not  to 
his  education.  There  is  not  a  schoolboy  nowadays  who 
has  not  more  learning  than  had  Socrates ;  yet  Socrates 
was  never  intoxicated  with  the  shallow  draught.  A  man 
of  great  strength  of  mind  is  less  likely  to  exercise  his  own 
powers  with  great  than  with  moderate  learning.  No  man 
of  genius  was  ever  fond  of  thumbing  a  dictionary.     While 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  189 

the  learned  man  is  breaking  the  nut-shell,  the  man  of 
genius  has  found  the  kernel.  The  United  States,  on  every 
emergency,  has  produced  men  full  grown,  who  have  ac- 
quitted themselves  with  ability  and  propriety. 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  this  point  than  by  a  comparison 
of  our  Congress  with  the  British  Parliament.  There  is  a 
reason  why  each  should  have  a  pre-eminence  over  the 
other.  The  peer  is  born  to  a  seat  in  the  House  of  Lords; 
or,  if  created,  he  must  like  Jenkinson  be  great  in  some 
way  or  other.  Hence  the  House  of  Lords  must  be  com- 
posed of  a  few  legislators  of  first-rate  ability  ;  and  even 
the  generality,  by  reason  of  education,  ought  to  possess 
superior  minds.  After  all,  you  will  find  many  stupid  fel- 
lows among  them.  However,  they  are  not  to  blame ;  they 
could  not  help  being  born  legislators.  With  respect  to  the 
House  of  Commons  the  same  reason  partially  exists.  Many 
of  the  members,  like  Pitt  and  Fox,  were  educated  for  the 
House  of  Commons.  Some  few  of  commanding  abilities 
and  popular  address  claim  a  seat  in  the  House,  no  matter 
who  their  fathers  were ;  such  was  Burke,  and  such  is  Sheri- 
dan. Besides,  the  greatest  and  most  dangerous  or  useful 
of  the  commoners  are  often  created  peers,  and  thereby 
keep  up  the  ability  and  dignity  of  a  body  of  men  which 
could  otherwise  scarcely  support  itself  on  a  hereditary 
principle ;  for  if  one  should  look  into  the  House  of  Lords 
during  the  absence  of  all  those  who  have  been  created  in 
the  present  reign,  he  might  forget  to  take  off  his  hat. 
Now,  the  probability  is  that  you  will  find  in  Parliament  a 
few  members  of  first-rate  powers,  the  generality  rather 
above  mediocrity,  and  a  certain  number  in  respect  to 
whom  it  would  puzzle  a  predestinarian  to  tell  how  they 
came  there. 

In  the  United  States,  we  have  neither  these  advantages 
nor  disadvantages.      The   legislator   is   sometimes   taken 


190  LETTERS   FROM   LONDON. 

from  the  plough,  sometimes  from  the  counting-house,  but 
more  frequently  from  the  law-shop.  An  Englishman,  I 
know,  must  smile  at  this,  and  imagine  that  our  members 
would  bring  their  professions  with  them  to  Congress,  and 
prove,  illustrate,  and  embellish  their  arguments  with  sug- 
gestions drawn  from  the  farm-yard,  the  warehouse,  or  the 
attorney's  office.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  however,  that 
our  members  of  Congress  have,  most  of  them,  been  in  busi- 
ness, and  consequently  they  know  more  of  human  life  than 
do  the  English  peers ;  and  though  they  may  at  first  be 
deficient  in  forms  and  precedents,  they  arc  likely  to  bring 
more  mind  to  the  public  service.  As  they  arc  considerably 
advanced  in  life,  and  already  had  shown  their  abilities 
before  they  were  delegated,  their  former  agricultural,  com- 
mercial, or  legal  pursuits  qualify  them  to  make  the  laws 
more  just  and  equal  in  their  operation.  "  Plus  pollere  mul- 
torum  ingenia  consiliaque." 

These  considerations  give  our  members  a  decided  superi- 
ority over  the  English  peers  ;  I  mean  there  will  be  more 
capacity  in  the  one  body  than  in  the  other,  notwithstanding 
there  will  ever  be  a  few  pre-eminent  members  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  of  recent  creation.  This  does  not  apply  to  the 
House  of  Commons ;  for  though  there  are  many  rotten 
boroughs  and  no  little  ministerial  influence  at  elections, 
yet  this  docs  not  debar  any  ability  from  the  House ;  for  the 
minister  will  naturally  seek  the  man  of  greatest  capacity. 
Hence  you  find  Windham,  Laurence,  Canning,  and  others 
in  the  House,  who  would  be  very  loath  to  be  questioned 
respecting  the  hustings. 

The  happy  days  which  we  have  experienced  under  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  have  scarcely  offered, 
since  its  adoption,  two  important  occasions  of  calling  forth 
the  abilities  of  Congress.  The  question  of  the  Judiciary 
gave  rise  to  the  most  spirited  and  well  contested  debate 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  191 

which  was  ever  heard  in  a  deliberative  assembly ;  while 
the  dignity  and  moderation  with  which  it  was  conducted 
proved  the  empire  of  reason  over  passion  and  personality. 
Had  such  a  question  —  a  question  which  called  forth  the 
whole  force  of  political  feeling  in  every  individual  of  the 
legislature  — been  agitated  in  the  House  of  Commons,  you 
might  have  heard  Mr.  Fox  pant  across  the  Thames  ;  Mr. 
Pitt  would  have  forgotten  his  usual  senatorial  dignity  ;  Dr. 
Laurence  would  have  frothed  at  the  mouth  ;  Mr.  Windham, 
forgetting  the  point  in  question,  would  have  hurled  Greek 
from  the  philippics  of  Demosthenes  at  his  opponents  ;  and 
Mr.  Erskinc  would  have  been  carried  out. 

The  members  of  Congress  were  not  less  surprised  than 
their  fellow-citizens  at  this  unexpected  display  of  close 
argument  arrayed  in  the  most  brilliant  eloquence.  The 
public  mind  was  immediately  convinced  when  Brecken- 
ridge  spoke  to  his  motion,  and  supported  it  with  force  and 
simplicity,  destitute  of  the  least  appeal  to  popular  senti- 
ment. But  when  Morris  arose,  his  wild  eloquence  threw 
a  mist  before  the  eyes  of  every  one,  and  served  to  keep  in 
agitation  a  question  supposed  to  be  settled.  Yet  Mason, 
with  a  steady,  piercing  eye,  saw  through  the  labyrinth  of 
part3'-colored  rhetoric,  and,  reverting  to  first  principles, 
brought  back  the  question  to  its  original  state.  These 
great  efforts  in  the  Senate  aroused  all  the  ability  of  the 
House,  and  called  forth  faculties  which  had  either  slept 
for  years  or  were  not  supposed  to  exist.  The  modest 
Hemphill,  with  the  simplicity  of  his  sect,  supported  his 
opinion  with  a  dignity  peculiar  to  himself;  while  Giles 
and  Bayard,  veterans  in  debate,  knowing  each  other  and 
conscious  of  the  public  expectation,  reserved  themselves 
to  the  last,  and  came  prepared  for  the  arduous  conflict. 

Adieu. 


192  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 


LETTER   XYII. 

London,  February  18. 

A  government  which  owes  its  greatness  to  the  vicious 
passions,  and  whose  stability  is  foundad  on  an  artificial 
basis,  should  endeavor  as  much  as  possible  to  substitute 
ideal  glory  for  real  patriotism,  and  should  call  the  atten- 
tion of  the  people  to  the  consideration  of  what  their  fathers 
have  been,  not  to  what  they  themselves  arc  ;  for  a  ruined 
country  like  a  ruined  woman  may  support  itself  for  a  cer- 
tain time  on  the  credit  of  its  former  reputation. 

Fortunately  for  England,  she  has  many  objects  to  engage 
the  affections  of  her  subjects  which  serve  the  purpose  of 
a  sort  of  spurious  patriotism.  This  bias  to  our  country, 
when  principle  is  wanting,  is  absolutely  necessary,  other- 
wise the  people  will  be  beggared  with  a  standing  army. 

In  the  advantage  of  external  attachments,  England 
stands  pre-eminent  over  all  nations.  In  the  first  place, 
she  is  small  in  territory,  in  the  next,  she  is  an  island. 
Such  circumstances  may  operate  on  a  people  without  their 
knowledge  ;  but  England  has  food  for  her  pride,  which  is 
the  strongest  trait  in  her  character.  It  is  a  property  of 
the  human  mind  in  its  most  miserable  state  to  rest  with 
a  degree  of  complacency  cither  on  some  object,  or,  if  that 
fails,  on  some  delusion.  If  a  nation  be  no  longer  great, 
the  people  console  themselves  with  past  greatness ;  if  no 
longer  brave,  they  are  ready  to  appeal  to  their  ancestors. 

Great  men,  great  victories,  magnificent  public  buildings, 
stupendous  monuments,  pompous  equipages,  nay,  a  long 
line  of  kings  and  nobles,  secretly  operate  in  Europe  instead 
of  a  greater  force,  and  produce  a  counterfeit  patriotism. 


LETTERS   FROM  LONDON'.  193 

I  say  counterfeit,  for  most  of  those  who  are  emphatically 
styled  great  men  have  been  public  burdens.  Great  vic- 
tories have  usually  originated  a  second  war,  while  the  first 
originated  to  a  Bpirit  of  plunder,  or,  what  more  frequently 
happens  in  our  days,  a  spirit  of  commerce.  Magnificent 
public  buildings  are  a  sure  mark  of  slavery  and  oppression; 
the  pyramids  do  no  honor  to  Egypt.  Stupendous  monu- 
ment* not  infrequently  rise  in  honor  of  the  tyrant,  and  at 
the  expense  of  slaves  ;  they  are  an  incentive  to  false  ambi- 
tion, and  perpetuate  and  sanction  the  principle  to  which 
they  were  reared.  Kings1  and  nobles  are  the  severest  libel 
which  any  people  can  suffer ;  they  had  their  origin  in  the 
weakness  of  mankind,  at  length  they  usurped  an  hereditary 
authority,  and  now  have  their  continuance  through  the 
baseness  of  mankind.  When  kings  and  nobles  are  once 
instituted,  it  is  their  constant  policy  to  discourage  every 
advance  to  former  virtue.  Said  the  late  Catharine  of  Rus- 
sia :  '•  If  men  would  listen  more  carefully  to  the  dictates 
of  reason  and  justice,  they  would  have  no  occasion  for  us 
or  others  upon  thrones.  I  was  always  fond  of  philos- 
ophy, and  my  mind  has  ever  been  altogether  republican. 
My  innate  love  and  regard  for  liberty,  to  be  sure,  forms  a 
Strange  contrast  to  my  boundless  power."2  Good  God! 
if  these  are  the  sentiments  of  a  despot,  a  woman  who 
held  twenty-four  millions  of  slaves  in  chains,  what  ought 
to  be  the  feelings  of    freemen !     If  we  do  not  guard  the 

1  Monarchy  doubtless  originated  in  the  infanev  and  weakness  of  society, 
when  an  aide,  bold,  and  popular  man  was  elected  to  protect  and  unite  the  dis- 
cordant interests  of  iiis  own  tribe  or  clan.  Thus,  though  simple  monarchy 
may  boast  an  elder  origin  than  republics,  all  hereditary  authority  is  founded 
in  usurpation,  and  is  acontinued  usurpation.  I  might  easily  demonstrate  this, 
so  could  Lord  Thnrlow. 

5  Catharine  wrote  this  in  a  letter  to  Zimmerman  ;  her  letters  to  Diderot 
and  D'Alembert  were  probably  in  the  same  style.     Persons  like  Catharine 
carry  with  them  their  own  excuse.     Those  who  will  not  be  free 
be  slaves. 

13 


194         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

sacred  fire  with  which  we  are  intrusted,  we  shall  deserve 
to  be  governed  by  a  woman,  and  when  dead,  torn  from 
our  sepulchres  by  posterity,  and  have  our  dust  scattered 
to  the  winds  of  heaven.  There  is  no  spark  in  Europe  at 
which  to  light  another  torch.  The  chains  of  slavery  no 
longer  clank  ;  restlessness  no  longer  brightens  them  ;  they 
are  reposing  in  rust.  If  liberty  be  not  cherished  by  us, 
she  will  retire  beyond  the  Appalachian  mountains  ;  her 
cause  in  Europe  is  hopeless.  The  blood  of  Hampden  was 
offered  in  vain,  and  one  day,  soon  after,  rendered  ineffect- 
ual the  efforts  of  years.  The  labors  of  Sidney  ended  in 
constructive  treason ;  and  the  fair  prospects  of  Brissot,  of 
the  Rolands  and  others,  closed  in  despair.  It  is  you,  my 
countrymen,  on  whom  all  Europe  is  looking,  most  with  in- 
difference, a  few  with  sympathy  ;  but  her  kings  and  nobles 
arc  watching  with  the  eagle  eye  of  despots,  to  seek  in  your 
miscarriage  a  sanction  for  their  own  principles.1 

What  though  we  have  no  magnificent  palaces  ?  Manius 
Curius  lived  in  a  cottage.  What  though  we  have  no  hered- 
itary nobility?  "One  family  is  as  ancient  as  another."2 
What  though  the  simplicity  of  our  temples,  unindebted  to 
the  chisel,  command  no  admiration  from  the  traveller? 
The  pattern  of  humility  was  born  in  a  manger.  What 
though  we  have  no  marble  monuments?  The  human  heart 
was  once  affected  by  a  rude  pile  of  stones  bearing  no  other 
inscription  than  "  Sta  viator,  calcas  heroem." 

But  to  return  to  the  English.  In  addition  to  many  natu- 
ral and  adventitious  causes  of  attachment  which  are  com- 
mon to  all  the  subjects,  there  are  others  which  do  not  any 
less  influence  those  who  feel  themselves  of  some  little 
weight  in  the  democratic  branch  of  the  Constitution.  As 
you   readily  perceive,  this    attachment   to  which   I    refer 

1  C.  P.  Sumner's  Eulogy  on  Washington. 

2  Frederic  II.    Memoirs  of  the  House  of  Brandenburg. 


LETTERS  FROM   LONDON.  19.-, 

is  of  a  political  nature.  This  class,  if  they  have  the 
least  knowledge  of  their  own  history,  ought  to  feel  elevated 
in  reflecting  that,  even  in  the  dark  ages,  there  was  suffi- 
cient spirit  in  England  to  give  law  to  a  king  fully  disposed 
to  he  a  tyrant;  and  though  in  succeeding  times,  the  people 
bandied  about  by  York  and  Lancaster,  at  one  moment  re- 
joiced in  a  victory  which  had  no  popular  right  for  its 
object,  at  the  next  were  happy  to  escape  in  a  general 
amnesty,  yet  under  Richard  the  Third  there  was  spirit 
enough  to  overturn  an  usurpation  in  the  third  year,  though 
supported  by  first-rate  abilities  and  heroic  valor.1  ff  the 
national  spirit  departed  for  a  century,  it  returned  to  take 
vengeance  for  three  former  reigns  on  a  man  who  was  com- 
paratively a  mild  prince.  But  what  ought  to  elate  the 
English  people  more  than  all  this,  there  was  found,  not 
long  after,  a  power  in  the  nation  capable  of  dropping  a  fool, 
of  excluding  his  posterity,  and  establishing  a  new  family 
on  the  throne.  This  power,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  not 
exerted  in  consequence  of  the  sovereignty  a  of  the  people 
of  England  ;  yet  its  exertion  under  any  circumstances  shows 
the  difference  between  this  people  and  the  monotonous 
history  of  other  nations,  where,  if  "  by  the  grace  of  God  " 
they  are  afflicted  with  a  tyrant  or  a  fool,  he  is  feared  as  a 
demon,  or  worshipped  as  a  sage.  All  these  historical 
traits  have  their  influence ;  for  an  Englishman  discovers 
that  there  is  a  power  residing  somewhere  in  the  nation 
capable  of  creating  all   things  anew.     Hence  the  class  of 

1  I  know  not  why  the  character  of  Richard  the  Third  should  be  treated 
with  peculiar  severity.  There  is  little  or  nothing  with  which  to  reproach 
him  after  he  came  to  the  throne.  The  tyranny  of  Richard  never  reached 
the  people ;  and  he  was  less  a  villain  in  order  to  acquire  a  crown,  than  were 
some  of  his  successors  after  they  had  obtained  one. 

-  In  Europe,  it  looks  like  affectation  or  irony  to  say  "the  sovereign 
people."  It  is  so.  But  nothing  was  more  usual  at  Rome  than  for  the  orators 
to  stvle  a  popular  assembly  the  sovereign  people,  —  "  at  imperimn  popnli  Ro- 
mani  majestasque  conservaretur."     (Cic.  pro  Rabirio  PerdaeUionis  Reo.) 


196  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

Englishmen  to  whom  I  refer  at  present,  cannot  but  feel  a 
proud  pre-eminence  in  comparing  themselves  with  their 
neighbors.  Doubtless  the  extorting  of  Magna  Charta  from 
King  John,  the  beheading  of  Charles  the  First,  the  dismis- 
sion of  James  the  Second,  and  the  establishment  of  a  new 
monarchy,  are  the  finest  portions  of  English  history.  A 
nation  which  'knows  how  thus  cither  to  reduce  to  reason, 
dismiss  forever,  or  speak  in  thunder  to  their  ill-disposed 
or  incorrigible  rulers  cannot  for  a  long  time  endure  either 
the  stork,  the  serpent,  or  the  tyranny  of  ministers  under  a 
harmless  King  Log,  though  there  may  not  be  sufficient 
virtue  in  the  nation  to  establish  a  legitimate  government. 
For  the  English  are  not  yet  quite  like  the  Ottomans ;  nor 
is  their  empire  quite  like  the  Ottoman,  —  weak  in  propor- 
tion to  its  wide  extended  territory,  and  poor  in  proportion 
to  its  natural  fertility. 

If  the  common  people  and  the  humblest  of  that  class 
who  are  allowed  the  privilege  of  voting  feel  a  reflected 
consequence  in  viewing  their  country,  the  gentry  and 
nobility  must  naturally  be  the  best  patriots  in  the  world, 
since  the  latter  rise  with  the  prosperity  of  their  country, 
though  they  suffer  little  in  its  distress.  Indeed,  the  nobil- 
ity in  all  nations  have  exhibited  as  much  love  for  their 
country  as  the  leech  feels  for  a  plethora. 

I  confess,  if  my  country  had  experienced  the  various 
revolutions  and  modifications  which  England  has  under- 
gone, and  the  people  in  every  contest  with  royal  authority 
had  added  to  their  own  prerogative,  it  would  be  matter  of 
proud  contemplation.  But  our  country  has  done  more ; 
instead  of  amending  and  modifying  an  indefinite  and  un- 
intelligible Constitution,  and  advancing  and  retreating  in 
the  maze  of  politics,  she  has,  by  one  great  effort,  brought 
back  the  social  compact  to  its  first  principles,  restored  a 
small  portion  of  humanity  to  its  original  respectability,  and 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         197 

left  their  posterity  a  form  of  government  which  merits  to 
be  hated  by  kings  and  nobles.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XVIII. 


London.  March  7. 

You  inquire  respecting  the  climate  of  England.  That 
climate  must  be  salubrious  which  has  produced  so  mam- 
great  men ;  yet  I  would  not  seem  to  attach  too  much  to 
this  circumstance,  for  the  most  congenial  climates  do  not 
constantly  produce  the  greatest  men.  It  is  reported  in 
history  that  the  Dutch  were  once  generous  and  noble,  that 
the  Spaniards  were  once  brave,  and  Livy  is  either  erro- 
neous or  too  much  given  to  irony,  if  Italy  did  not  at  one 
time  produce  men. 

If  the  English  have  a  single  prejudice,  it  is  certainly 
not  in  favor  of  their  climate.  Their  caricaturists,  who  for 
broad  humor  are  unrivalled,  hit  off  John  Bull  in  a  cloudy 
day  with  great  success.  The  weather  here  is  of  such  pub- 
lic concern  that  not  infrequently  it  is  a  subject  of  comment 
in  the  newspapers.  There  are  perhaps  more  weathercocks 
in  London  than  in  all  the  world  besides ;  though  it  ought  to 
be  considered  that  London  is  the  seat  of  government. 

Among  the  various  modes  of  insurance  which  the  wit  of 
man  has  invented,  I  am  not  a  little  surprised  that  no  one 
has  ever  opened  an  office  for  the  insurance  of  fair  weather. 
All  those  who  are  in  pursuit  of  pleasure  or  business  ;  all 
who  have  delicate  constitutions,  and  are  liable  to  suf- 
fer from  the  wind  being  a  point  or  half  a  point  variant 
from  their  favorite  quarter  ;  all  who  are  incommoded  on 
journeys,  —  might  be   compensated  in   money  for  mental 


198  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

or  corporal  inconvenience.  This  may  appear  rather  ri- 
diculous at  first  sight ;  but  it  is  only  an  improvement  on 
marine  insurance,  and  is  much  more  rational  than  insur- 
ance on  lives.  I  have  no  doubt  the  lawyers  will  improve 
this  hint :  it  would  afford  rare  sport  at  Westminster  and 
Guildhall.  All  the  dull  rogues  in  town  would  insure ;  for 
the  author  who  wrote  on  a  dull  day  would  recover  special 
damages  if  his  book  did  not  sell.  All  the  ladies  at  the 
west  end  of  the  town  would  insure,  though  I  know  not 
what  damages  would  be  given  for  an  unsuccessful  rout. 
All  those  who  frequent  places  of  public  amusement,  as 
well  as  the  proprietors  of  such  places,  would  insure  ;  the 
one  for  lack  of  pleasure,  the  other  for  disappointment 
in  money  receipts. 

If  many  of  the  English  have  degenerated  into  a  mongrel 
sort ;  if  the  mane  of  the  lion  has  given  place  to  more  ear ; 
if  a  thousand  nervous  affections  have  turned  the  men  into 
women  without  the  spirit  of  women,  I  am  not  disposed  to 
attribute  it  to  the  climate,  which  is  now  as  good  as  when 
Boadicea  led  the  van  of  her  countrymen.  Let  us,  for  a 
moment,  consider  what  effects  the  climate  of  England  pro- 
duces, and  then  we  can  judge  whether  or  not  it  be  insalu- 
brious. Where  neither  the  excess  of  pleasure  nor  the 
excess  of  labor  emaciates,  the  English,  both  men  and 
women  arc  exceedingly  handsome.  Their  round,  ruddy 
countenances  bespeak  a  mellow  temperature  of  weather 
which  neither  relaxes  nor  contracts.  Surely,  the  climate 
of  that  country  must  be  good  which  produces  brave  men 
and  handsome  women  ;  and  I  think  those  gloomy  affections 
to  which  so  many  of  the  English  are  subject,  ought  not  to 
be  imputed  to  the  climate.  Man  must  first  be  degenerate 
before  a  west  wind 1  or  a  cloudy  day  can  reduce  him 
to  despondency. 

J  Id  England  it  is  the  west  wind  which  brings  hanging  weather. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  199 

"  By  chase  our  long-liv'd  fathers  earn'd  their  food; 
Toil  strung  the  nerves  and  purified  the  blood; 
But  we,  their  sons,  a  pauiper'd  race  of  men, 
Are  dwindled  down  to  threescore  years  aud  ten."  ' 

This  is  doubtless  mere  poetry.  The  English  are  more 
laborious  now  than  if  they  were  hunters ;  and  as  for  their 
being  dwindled  down  to  seventy  years,  I  think  it  rather  a 
bull.  The  English  live  as  long  and  bear  their  age  as  well, 
I  believe,  as  any  people.  My  washerwoman  tells  me  she 
knows  more  than  half  a  dozen  women  in  her  neighborhood 
between  the  ages  of  sixty-seven  and  seventy-five  who  gain 
their  livelihood  at  the  washing-tub.  I  do  not  know  that 
the  English  live  longer  or  retain  their  faculties  to  a  later 
period  than  the  New  Englanders  do  ;  but  the  inroad  of 
years  does  not  make  so  early  nor  so  deep  an  impression  on 
their  faces.  The  climate  is  so  temperate,  both  in  summer 
and  winter,  that  I  have  not  experienced  what  I  consider  a 
warm  or  a  cold  day.  Hence  the  pores  of  the  body  are 
not  so  frequently  open  in  summer,  nor  so  continually  con- 
tracted in  winter.  When  I  say  the  English  bear  their  age 
better  than  our  people,  I  am  supposing  that  they  lead 
similar  lives.  In  New  England  you  rarely  see  the  emaci- 
ated, the  deformed,  the  rickety,  or  the  deficient ;  in  Eng- 
land, you  meet  with  them  at  every  step.  I  have  seen 
thousands  of  these  miserable  creatures,  to  whom  it  would 
have  been  an  act  of  mercy  to  have  extended  a  certain 
wise  law  of  Sparta. 

Whether  or  not  the  women  bear  their  years  better  than 
ours  do,  I  am  not  certain,  they  are  so  very  loath  to  tell 
their  ages;  but  of  this  I  am  sure,  —  the  dress,  carriage, 
and  conversation  of  the  English  women  are  at  least  ten 
years  in  their  favor.  The  contrast  is  remarkable.  A 
young  woman  in  this  country  is  willing  to  be  sociable,  and 
1  Dryden,  Epistle  xiii. 


200  LETTERS  PROM  LONDON. 

seems  disposed  to  render  herself  pleasing,  rather  than  an 
object  of  indifference.  In  the  United  States,  on  the  con- 
trary, a  young  woman  is  too  ready  to  imagine  she  has  done 
wrong,  and  frequently  checks  herself,  and  betrays  a  degree 
of  guilt,  when  she  discovers  that  she  has  unwittingly  done 
herself  justice.  The  manners  of  the  one  render  her 
younger  in  appearance  than  she  is;  the  manners  of  the 
other  make  her  seem  older. 

There  is  one  description  of  Englishmen  on  whom  the 
climate  must  operate  very  unhappily.  I  mean  the  country 
gentlemen,  who,  residing  most  of  their  time  on  their 
estates,  and  not  having  a  taste  for  either  the  elegant  or 
the  more  laborious  pursuits  of  agriculture,  or,  what  is  still 
more  unhappy,  cold  to  the  charms  of  literature,  spend  their 
days  insulated  within  their  own  barren  selves,  and  instead 
of  giving  their  days  to  "  negotium  cum  dignitate,"  sacrifice 
their  lives  to  a  false  "  otium  cum  dignitate."  To  such,  a 
gloomy  day  is  the  harbinger  of  their  evil  genius.  The 
sombre  appearance  of  their  aged  mansions,  and  the 
solemn  aspect  of  the  scene  around  render  their  solitude 
awful,  and  recall  the  most  depressing  recollections.  The 
spectres  of  their  ancestors  come  in  the  clouds  and  haunt 
the  halls  of  their  former  residence;  while  the  sullen  still- 
ness of  the  trees  helps  to  turn  the  mind  upon  itself,  which 
to  most  men  is,  of  all  ills,  the  most  insupportable.  The 
country  gentlemen  feel  that  they  are  the  centre  of  a  scene 
from  which  they  cannot  fly  ;  past  pleasures  are  now  con- 
verted into  present  pain,  while  the  present  moment,  in 
imagination,  is  to  last  forever. 

Such  of  the  English  people  as  know  how  to  think,  think 
as  much  as  or  more  than  any  other  people ;  yet  those 
who  think  most  do  not  always  think  most  happily.  Some 
persons  at  the  end  of  a  revery  find  themselves  in  the 
slough  of  sensuality  ;  others  think  only  to  get  rid  of  them- 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  201 

selves,  while  some  bring  themselves  to  the  sad  conclusion 
that  it  would  be  madness  in  them  to  be  happy.  The  English. 
I  believe,  think  less  happily  than  any  other  people.  They 
scarcely  affect  happiness  to  hide  their  misery.  Montes- 
quieu, you  recollect,  attributes  this  to  their  form  of  govern- 
ment, rather  than  to  their  climate.  This  merits  attention. 
I  will  never  admit  that  a  free  people '  (so  Montesquieu 
termed  the  English)  are  less  happy  than  a  tyrant  could 
render  them ;  but  I  can  easily  believe  that  a  people  feeling 
their  incapacity  to  enjoy  those  rights  which  their  consti- 
tution of  government  guarantees,  will  be  unhappy  in  pro- 
portion to  their  sensibility,  while  the  frequent  changes 
of  weather  will  give  a  sad  cast  to  their  dispositions.  The 
great  body  of  every  people  are  secure  from  the  violent  pas- 
sions. A  free  people  are  less  secure,  indeed,  but  their 
jealousy,  sensibility,  and  transient  violence  are  rather  a 
proof  of  their  happiness ;  for  their  passions  are  never 
excited  except  when  they  imagine  they  are  about  to  lose 
either  a  part  or  the  whole  of  that  which  Montesquieu 
thinks  is  the  chief  cause  of  their  misery. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XIX. 


London,  March  "23. 
The  character  of  the  English,  I  have  more  than  once 
observed,  is  a  singular  mixture  of  dignity  and  servility. 
The  more  I  see  of  this  people  the  more  am  I  struck  with 
these  opposite  traits.  Here  are  few  men  who  have  not  two 
characters  which  they  put  off  and  resume  at  pleasure. 
The  moment  a  man  is  addressed,  he  either  discipline?; 
1  Whenever  I  call  the  English  free,  I  mean  comparative  freedom. 


202         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

himself  to  a  demeanor  of  inferiority  or  assumes  an  air  of 
importance  suitable  to  the  opinion  he  thinks  is  entertained 
of  his  presence.  Of  all  characters  that  is  least  respectable 
which  is  now  the  lion  and  presently  the  sheep.  I  have 
seen  at  a  coffee-house  a  man  who,  in  the  pride  of  his  im- 
portance challenging  the  whole  conversation  and  enjoying 
that  lire-eminence  which  was  tacitly  allowed,  sank  suddenly 
into  silence  the  moment  another  person  entered  the  room. 

They  tell  a  pleasant  story  of  an  European  who  was  in- 
troduced to  an  Indian  chief.  You  know  the  American 
savages  are  celebrated  for  their  unreserved  deportment  in 
presence  of  those  whom  the  world  call  great.  The  Euro- 
pean, with  an  inherent  servility,  fell  on  his  knees,  and  by 
his  interpreter  addressed  his  savage  majesty  to  the  follow- 
ing effect :  "  Most  powerful  chief,  who  boldest  in  thy  hands 
the  destinies  of  the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  the  fame  of 
thy  valor  has  encircled  both  hemispheres  !  Accept  the 
homage  of  the  white  man  who  has  come  from  the  other 
side  of  the  great  water  to  behold  the  Little  Toad-Eater." 
Neither  the  chief  nor  his  companions  smiled,  —  that  might 
have  discomposed  the  white  man.  Neither  did  the  chief 
know  how  to  reply  ;  but,  suspecting  from  the  white  man's 
posture  that  lie  was  quite  exhausted,  with  true  civility 
asked  him  if  he  wished  for  anything  to  eat.  The  interpreter 
replied  that  they  had  just  eaten  and  drunk  abundantly. 
This  perplexed  the  chief  and  his  companions,  who  won- 
dered why  the  white  man  preferred  to  continue  on  his 
knees.  At  length  the  white  man,  thinking  it  a  great 
breach  of  politeness  to  be  left  in  such  a  situation,  asked, 
"  How  long  shall  I  continue  on  my  knees  ? "  The  chief  re- 
plied, "  As  long  as  you  please."  This  was  natural ;  the 
child  of  Nature  being  ignorant  of  the  reason  why  the  man 
had  knelt,  knew  no  reason  why  he  should  not  rise  at  one 
time  as  well  as  at  another. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  203 

Not  a  little  of  the  national  character  may  be  discovered 
at  the  courts  of  law.  The  examination  of  witnesses  in 
the  frequently  tedious  tragi-comedy  of  law  is  a  great  relief 
to  the  judges,  to  the  lawyers,  and  to  the  jury.  A  poor  man 
comes  into  court  with  a  presentiment  of  being  subjected 
to  abuse  and  insult.  The  counsellor  frequently  inquires 
of  the  witness  his  occupation,  his  mode  of  life,  and  his 
circumstances,  with  a  view  to  ridicule  him.  Cowardly 
conduct  to  abuse  a  defenceless  man  from  behind  a  chief- 
justice,  and  under  the  covert  of  law  !  A  man  of  fortune  is 
treated  very  differently ;  and  if  anything  offensive  should 
escape  the  counsel,  there  is  immediate  room  made  for  an 
apology  which  more  than  satisfies  the  delicate  feelings  of 
the  witness.  I  know  that  witnesses  often  give  their  evi- 
dence in  a  manner  which  lays  them  open  to  fair  criticism  ; 
but  if  this  sometimes  happen,  it  is  not  a  sufficient  reason 
for  abusing  an  honest  man.  Should  our  citizens  receive 
such  treatment  in  our  courts  as  the  poorer  class  of  English 
suffer  at  Westminster  and  Guildhall,  they  would  first  call 
upon  the  judge  to  protect  them ;  and  if  not  protected,  they 
woidd  protect  themselves.  Here  an  innocent  man  is 
obliged  to  suffer  in  cross-examination  the  meditated  bru- 
tality of  a  secure  attack,  while  the  judge  stands  ready 
to  commit  the  witness  to  Newgate  if  he  dare  to  assert 
his  dignity. 

I  am  daily  more  and  more  surprised  at  the  difference 
between  the  English  as  a  nation  and  as  individuals.  They 
themselves  seem  conscious  of  the  difference.  Individuals 
are  more  ready  to  resent  national  than  personal  attacks. 
The  man  who  will  sit  patiently  and  hear  his  neighbors 
abused,  instantly  shows  a  spirit  of  opposition  if  it  be  ques- 
tioned whether  the  English  were  free  under  Queen  Eliza- 
beth. It  is  the  part  of  most  men  to  take  little  care  of 
their  private,  so  long  as  their  public  character  stands  fair. 


204  LETTERS  PBOM  LONDON. 

Dan  Prior,  after  spending  part  of  the  evening  with  Pope. 
Swift,  and  Oxford,  would  close  it  over  a  pot  of  porter  in 
Long  Acre,  with  a  soldier  and  his  wife. 

If  the  English  think  they  have  no  circumstantial,  pre- 
scriptive right  to  assume  superiority,  they  readily  acquiesce 
in  inferiority,  and  still  assume  as  much  as  they  dare.  Not 
so  our  citizens  ;  they  attach  voluntary  respect  to  merit, 
hut  do  not  allow  even  superiority  to  assume  anything. 

I  am  happy  to  record  the  following  anecdote,  as  it  illus- 
trates a  rare  species  of  magnanimity.  I  was  lately  in  com- 
pany with  some  of  those  happy  mortals,  who,  having 
already  enjoyed  a  competency  of  fame,  arc  now  reposing 
under  their  own  statues.  They  were  speaking  of  vulgar 
prejudices.  One  of  them  said  he  had  been  stoned  several 
times  in  passing  through  a  certain  country  village,  he- 
cause  his  hair  naturally  curled.  I  asked  him  how  long 
since  this  happened  ;  he  replied,  "  Ahout  thirty  years  since, 
when  I  was  a  journeyman  shoemaker." 

I  cannot  better  illustrate  the  subject  of  the  present  letter 
than  by  quoting  the  following  famous  speech  of  Beckford 
to  George  the  Third.  This  speech  is  inscribed  on  Beck- 
ford's  monument  in  Guildhall,  in  large,  fair  characters. 
It  is  supposed  to  do  the  city  of  London  great  honor.  There 
certainly  is  in  the  last  paragraph  a  wonderful  degree  of 
dignity  for  a  Lord  Mayor  ;  but  the  Asiatic  style  of  the 
rest  of  the  speech  will  be  received  in  the  United  States 
for  sarcastic  raillery  :  — 

"Most  Gracious  Sovereign,  —  Will  your  Majesty  be 
pleased  so  far  to  condescend  as  to  permit  the  Mayor  of 
your  loyal  city  of  London  to  declare  in  your  royal  presence, 
on  behalf  of  his  fellow-citizens,  how  much  the  bare  appre- 
hension of  your  Majesty's  displeasure  would,  at  all  times, 
affect  their  minds  ;  the  declaration  of  that  displeasure  has 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         205 

already  filled  theni  with  inexpressible  anxiety,  and  with 
the  deepest  affliction.  Permit  me,  sire,  to  assure  your 
Majesty,  that  your  Majesty  has  not  in  all  your  dominions 
any  subjects  more  faithful,  more  dutiful,  or  more  affec- 
tionate to  your  Majesty's  person  and  family,  or  more 
ready  to  sacrifice  their  lives  and  fortunes  to  the  main- 
tenance of  the  true  honor  and  dignity  of  your  crown. 

•■  We  do,  therefore,  with  the  greatest  humility  and  sub- 
mission, most  earnestly  supplicate  your  Majesty  that  you 
will  not  dismiss  us  from  your  presence  without  expressing 
a  more  favorable  opinion  of  your  faithful  citizens,  and  with- 
out some  comfort,  without  some  prospect  at  least  of  re- 
dress. 

"  Permit  me,  sire,  further  to  observe,  that  whoever  has 
already  dared,  or  shall  hereafter  endeavor  by  false  insinu- 
ations and  suggestions  to  alienate  your  Majesty's  affections 
from  your  loyal  subjects  in  general,  and  from  the  city  of 
London  in  particular,  and  to  withdraw  your  confidence  in 
and  regard  for  your  people,  is  an  enemy  to  your  Majesty's 
person  and  family,  a  violator  of  the  public  peace,  and  a 
betrayer  of  our  happy  Constitution  as  it  was  established 
at  the  glorious  revolution." 

Thus  ended  this  famous  speech ;  but  his  hard-hearted 
Majesty  scarcely  sat  long  enough  to  hear  the  supplications 
of  his  poor,  disconsolate  subjects.  Beckford  was  dismissed 
without  comfort  and  without  redress.  Alas,  broken- 
hearted citizens  of  London! 

But  I  challenge  all  the  archives  of  Asia  to  match  the 
following:  "The  Lords  spiritual  and  temporal,  and  Com- 
mons do,  in  the  name  of  all  the  people  of  England,  most 
humbly  and  faithfully  submit  themselves,  their  heirs  and 
posterity  forever,"  etc.     I  am  sick  of  such  stuff. 

Adieu. 


206  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 


LETTER  XX. 


Loxdox,  March  28. 

Had  Thcophrastus  made  a  voyage  to  Britain,  he  might 
have  embellished  his  treatise,  "  De  Lapidibus,"  with  num- 
berless "  lusi  natural."  That  Spartan  was  no  doubt  a  wag 
who  asked  the  Athenian  whether  trees  grew  square  in  his 
country.  I  know  not  why  trees  in  Athens  should  not  have 
been  square  as  well  as  that  the  quarries  in  England  should 
produce  stones  of  all  dimensions,  some  in  the  form  of 
cylinders,  others  square,  and  some  round.  Nor  is  this  all; 
stones  not  only  grow  in  these  convenient  geometrical  fig- 
ures, but  grow  as  smooth  as  the  hand  of  art  could  polish 
them;  and  not  a  few  of  them  seem  to  be  fluted,  as  though 
a  chisel  had  been  employed,  particularly  those  in  the  form  of 
cylinders.  Among  all  the  curiosities  in  the  British  Museum, 
I  saw  not  one  of  these  natural  productions, — a  striking 
instance  how  little  mankind  regard  the  greatest  miracles 
of  Nature  which  are  within  the  observation  of  everybody. 
Should  one  of  these  fluted  columns  be  discovered  in  New 
England,  every  man  would  turn  antiquary  ;  yet  I  should  be 
sorry  to  see  any  of  these  fluted  columns  in  our  country, 
for  our  citizens  would  be  so  pleased  with  them  that  they 
might  endeavor  to  force  our  quarries  to  conform  to  those 
of  England,  and  that  would  be  an  endless  undertaking. 

With  these  ready-made  materials,  it  is  no  wonder  that 
many  of  their  public  buildings  are  built  on  a  magnificent 
scale.  St.  Paul's  is  one  grand,  entire,  vast  edifice,  which 
does  great  honor  to  the  Saint,  and  argues  no  little  piety  in 
the  nation.  "Where  so  much  money  is  made  by  religion, 
it   would   look    like    ingratitude  not  to  show  some  little 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  207 

external  respect  to  its  founders  ;  yet  St.  Paul's  is  rather  a 
niggardly  building  for  a  people  who  have  sported  away  so 
much  money.  St.  Paul's  cost  only  £1,500,000  sterling. 
Comparing  the  value  of  money  at  the  time  it  was  built 
with  the  present  value  of  money,  we  may  suppose  it  cost 
£3,500,000 ;  a  trifle  which  could  never  have  been  missed 
from  the  treasury,  and  which  might  have  been  reimbursed 
to  the  nation  in  exchequer  bills  in  two  days. 

The  front  of  St..  Martin's,  its  bold  design,  its  majestic 
pillars,  its  elevated  ground-work,  rising  so  gradually  that 
the  eye  commands  it  without  an  effort,  its  weighty  pedes- 
tals and  spacious  portico  frequently  delay  the  stranger  until 
divine  service  is  over.  I  might  thus  run  over,  in  descrip- 
tion, the  Royal  Exchange,  Somerset  House,  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  a  hundred  other  buildings ;  but  they  excite  no 
feeling  in  the  heart,  convey  no  food  to  the  mind,  and  scarcely 
the  skeleton  of  an  image  to  the  imagination.  Yet  the  Par- 
liament Douse  I  must  particularly  mention.  It  is  a  very 
old  building,  and  from  a  western  view  seems  to  have  fallen 
from  the  clouds  in  "  disjuncta  membra  "  and  to  have  been 
blown  together  by  a  violent  wind  ;  so  that  the  Parliament 
and  Parliament  House  are  perfectly  congenial.  At  differ- 
ent periods  this  building  has  undergone  many  improve- 
ments. There  is  quite  a  small  portion  of  the  building, 
known  as  the  House  of  Commons,  formerly  St.  Stephen's 
Chapel,  which  long  ago  was  devoted  to  what  was  then 
called  religion.  This  part  of  the  building  is  thought  by 
many  to  be  out  of  repair;  but,  unfortunately,  it  is  situate 
so  near  the  centre,  and  the  approach  to  it  is  through  so 
many  windings  that  you  might  as  well  pull  down  the 
whole  edifice  as  undertake  to  repair  it.  Besides,  many  of 
the  occupiers  of  this  apartment  have  an  interest  in  the 
premises,  and  are  naturally  attached  to  a  house  which 
has   cost   them    so   much    money ;    but,  like   many  other 


208         LETTEES  FBOM  LONDON. 

persons,  rather  than  repair  their  house  they  are  willing  to 
hazard  its  falling  on  their  heads.  Perhaps  no  human  in- 
vention was  ever  more  criticized  than  this  apartment. 
For  instance,  some  have  observed  that  it  appears  very 
well  defined  at  a  distance,  but  that  internally  it  is  little 
better  than  a  labyrinth  ;  that  those  who  enter  soon  get  be- 
wildered, no  longer  know  their  former  friends,  and  seldom 
return  the  same  way  they  entered.  Others  have  compared 
it  to  a  worsted  purse,  extremely  accommodating,  capable 
cither  of  contraction  or  expansion,  at  pleasure.  Some 
have  more  ludicrously  comj tared  it  to  a  puppet-show,  and 
have  stretched  the  comparison  beyond  all  bounds  of  tolera- 
tion.    After  all,  I  think  it  the  best  room  in  the  house. 

A  little  lower  down  is  another  famous  apartment  more 
ornamental  than  useful,  called  the  House  of  Lords.  Its 
size  is  a  little  less  than  that  of  the  House  of  Commons.  I 
never  was  in  any  place  so  well  calculated  for  lounging;  and 
I  believe  it  a  just  remark,  that  most  of  those  who  find  them- 
selves on  these  satin  seats  lounge  away  the  rest  of  their 
days.  Indeed,  the  government  not  infrequently  places 
restless  men  there  to  make  them  easy  ;  such  a  wonderful 
influence  have  these  satin  seats  on  the  spirits  of  men.  A 
violent  fever  of  ten  or  twenty  years  has  been  known  to 
change  to  a  life-long  lethargy.  Calypso  never  possessed  a 
stronger  influence  over  the  nature  of  men  than  do  these 
satin  seats. 

There  are  many  small  apartments  on  the  area  well 
worthy  the  notice  of  a  stranger.  Those  termed  the  courts 
of  King's  Bench  and  Equity  are  the  most  remarkable  of 
the  several  courts.  The  court  of  Equity  is  a  very  small 
apartment,  nearly  circular,  —  in  allusion,  I  suppose,  to  the 
circle,  the  most  perfect  of  figures ;  though  a  person  whose 
case  had  been  in  Equity  five-and-twenty  years  might  sup- 
pose that  the  allusion  points  to  Time,  as  the  circle  has  no 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  209 

end.  All  these  courts  of  law  are  so  exceedingly  circum- 
scribed that  you  might  imagine  they  were  designed  for  the 
lawyers  only.  The  entrance  to  them  is  through  a  spacious 
hall,  but  the  distance  is  bo  great  that  the  suitors  are  fre- 
quently lost  before  they  can  find  the  courts.  So  this 
spacious  hall,  though  built  for  the  public  service,  is  chiefly 
devoted  to  the  entertainment  of  a  fevr  lawyers.  It  is  a  pity 
these  courts  cannot  be  rendered  more  commodious  and 
easy  of  access ;  but  there  is  very  little  prospect  of  this, 
for  the  bare  proposition  would  evoke  a  "  nolumus  mutare  " 
throughout  the  country. 

I  shall  speak  more  distinctly  in  my  next  letter. 

Adieu. 


LETTER  XXI. 

London,  April  4. 

The  conclusion  of  my  last  letter  has  given  occasion  for 
the  present. 

Human  laws,  however  well  adapted  to  a  people's  circum- 
stances, however  well  defined  or  mildly  executed,  are  of 
unequal  operation.  In  all  societies  there  are  persons  who 
hang  so  loosely  on  the  social  compact  that  they  may  be 
considered  privileged  characters,  and  paramount  to  the 
law ;  while  others,  though  seemingly  born  for  the  opera- 
tion of  law  on  themselves,  contrive  to  slip  the  noose  of 
justice.  These  two  classes  are  little  affected,  whether  the 
laws  operate  kindly  or  with  the  greatest  severity.  How- 
evor,  the  number  of  these  people  will  scarcely  be. trouble- 
some under  a  polity  where  all  the  members  have  it  in  their 
power  to  live  by  industry  in  decent  respectability.  Our 
own  country  is  an  illustrious  proof  of  this  ;  the  conven- 

14 


210  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

icnccs  of  life  arc  there  procured  with  such  facility,  and  the 
government  rests  so  lightly  on  the  shoulders  of  the  citizens, 
that  the  most  abandoned  European  rogues  find  it  to  their  in- 
terest, on  their  arrival,  to  become  honest.  The  burden  of 
the  law  forever  bears  hardest  on  that  class  of  men  who  in 
most  countries  are  the  majority,  —  I  mean  those  who  have 
sufficient  honesty  to  keep  within  the  limits  of  the  law.  yet 
not  sufficient  property  to  feel  perfectly  easy  under  its  au- 
thority. Hence  the  daring  observation  of  Beccaria  will  be 
found  practically  true  :  "  The  generality  of  laws  are  ex- 
clusive privileges,  —  the  tribute  of  all  to  the  advantage 
of  a  few." 

Now,  if  the  association  of  the  rich  and  poor  for  the  sup- 
port of  law  be  a  very  unequal  association,  and  if  the  poor 
suffer  the  chief  burden  of  that  establishment  which  pro- 
tects the  rich,  and  if  law  will,  from  necessity,  even  in  a 
government  founded  on  the  broad  basis  of  political  equal- 
ity, operate  in  this  manner,  the  man  who,  confiding  in  the 
protection  of  law  which  has  received  its  sanction  from  the 
highest  human  authority,  experiences  from  whatever  cause 
its  inefficacy,  and  finds  himself  ruined  —  though  the  law 
in  its  sarcastic  mockery  may  give  him  a  verdict  —  must 
feel  his  moral  sense  weakened,  and  in  the  moment  of 
indignation  feel  disposed  to  make  reprisal. 

These  observations  are  necessary  in  order  to  convince 
you  that  I  am  serious  in  what  I  shall  advance  in  the  pres- 
ent letter,  though  I  cannot  reasonably  expect  one  word  of 
it  will  be  believed. 

It  was  the  policy  of  Alfred,  says  history,  to  bring  justice 
home  to  every  man's  door.  Now  this  is  either  an  orna- 
mental story  in  the  annals  of  that  age,  or  Madam  Justice 
has  for  many  years  been  too  proud  to  enter  the  door  of  a 
cottage.  It  is  the  boast  of  the  English  that  they  live  under 
equal  laws,  and  that  in  the  eye  of  the  law  the  meanest 


LETTERS   FROM   LONDON.  -211 

man  in  the  kingdom  ranks  with  the  greatest.  Though 
this  were  a  vain  boast,  it  bespeaks  a  people  not  entirely 
uninfluenced  by  noble  sentiments.  It  has,  however,  unfor- 
tunately happened  to  other  people  besides  the  Romans  to 
appeal  to  laws  engraven  on  "  twelve  tables,"  but  which,  in 
process  of  time,  attract  the  notice  of  the  lawyer  less  than 
that  of  the  antiquary.  A  modern  Roman  may  dig  up  a 
broken  piece  of  an  old  column  which  shall  contain  the 
whole  spirit  of  Roman  liberty,  and  on  this  authority  assert 
himself  a  freeman.  So  may  an  Englishman  produce  from 
his  dusty  archives  Magna  Charta,  and  quote  you  the  proud 
passage  :  "  Nulli  vendemus,  nulli  negabimus,  aut  differemus, 
rectum  aut  justiciam,"  and  I  will  send  him  to  the  court  of 
King's  Bench  or  Common  Pleas  to  recover  the  sum  of  £10. 
A  form  of  government  or  a  code  of  laws  may  command  our 
admiration,  but  unless  they  operate  in  practice  they  serve 
only  to  betray  the  weak  more  easily  to  the  wary.  The 
operation  of  the  laws  is  law,  not  their  t!'e<>r>/. 

A  legitimate  government,  that  is,  a  government  founded 
on  public  will,  should  make  it  a  first  concern  that  the  laws 
of  property 1  sit  as  easy  as  possible  on  the  shoulders  of  pov- 
erty. The  greatest  praise  which  a  code  of  laws  can  receive 
is  the  high  estimation  in  which  it  is  held  by  the  poor  ;  but 
if  the  operation  of  the  laws  be  oppressive,  the  poor  naturally 
transfer  their  hatred  from  the  abuses  of  the  laws  to  the 
laws  themselves.  Uence  the  embryo  of  revolution.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  in  all  governments  destitute  of  a  regene- 
rative principle  the  first  abuse  merges  in  the  second,  and 
the  latter  in  the  succeeding  one  ;  so  that  at  length  accumu- 
lated abuses  lay  claim  to  prescription  and  outbrave  the  law 
itself.  Otherwise  it  never  could  have  happened  that  in 
England,  famous  throughout  the  world  for  just  judges  and 

1  Criminal  law,  however  severe,  in  all  countries  operates  nior- 
than  tin;  laws  which  regulate  private  property. 


2l2  LETTERS   FROM   LONDON'. 

well-defined  law,  a  poor  man  whom  injury  has  overwhelmed 
is  necessitated  to  fly  from  remedy,  lest  the  justice  of  his 
country  should  double  his  distress.  Indeed,  I  caught  the 
following  observation  from  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon,1  while 
on  his  scat  in  Chancery :  "  In  many  instances  a  man  who 
trusts  to  his  neighbor's  honesty,  without  taking  any  secu- 
rity, stands  a  better  chance  of  obtaining  justice  than  if  he 
brings  his  case  into  Chancery  on  the  faith  of  parchment." 
The  Chancellor  delivered  this  with  a  vehemence  which 
did  him  honor,  and  in  just  indignation  at  the  perversion 
of  justice,  which  in  his  own  court  and  under  his  own  eye 
occurs  so  frequently  in  spite  of  himself.  This,  let  it  be 
observed,  was  in  the  court  of  Chancery.  It  is  the  inferior 
courts  which  most  interest  the  great  mass  of  the  people. 
In  Chancery,  if  the  scales  of  justice  sometimes  labor,  the 
suitors  in  general  can  afford  to  oil  them.  Let  the  laws 
take  care  of  the  poor,  the  rich  can  take  care  of  themselves : 
the  widow's  cruise  I  wish  to  spare. 

I  shall  now  show  you,  by  a  single  fact,  the  practical 
operation  of  law  in  England. 

In  the  year  1793  the  number  of  writs  from  £10  to  £20 
only,  which  issued  in  Middlesex,  amounted  to  5,719.  The 
sums  sued  for  amounted  to  £81,791.  If  not  one  of  these 
writs  had  been  defended,  the  costs  would  have  amounted 
to  £GS,728.  Had  they  been  defended,  the  amount  of  costs 
would  have  arisen  to  £285,950  !  This  I  do  not  expect  you 
will  believe.  What  havoc  among  the  poor!  Sir  William 
Blaekstone  says  that  the  impartial  administration  of  justice 
is  the  great  end  of  civil  society;  but  such  justice  as  the 
above,  one  would  suppose,  would  soon  be  the  complete  end 
of  civil  society. 

Coleman,  in  his  comedy  of  the  "  Poor  Gentleman,"  im- 
agines the  following  dialogue  between  Sir  Robert  Bramble 
1  Better  known  in  the  United  States  as  Sir  John  Scot. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         21  o 

and  Humphrey.  Sir  Rob. :  "  Is  there  any  distresses  in  the 
parish  ?  Read  the  morning  list,  Humphrey."  Humph.  : 
"  Jonathan  Haggens  of  Muck  Mead  is  put  in  prison."  Sir 
Rob. :  "  Why,  it  was  but  last  week  Gripe,  the  attorney, 
recovered  two  cottages  for  him,  by  law,  worth  sixty 
pounds."  Humph. :  "  And  charged  a  hundred  and  ten 
for  his  trouble  ;  so  seized  the  cottages  for  part  of  his  bill, 
and  threw  Jonathan  into  jail  fur  the  remainder." 

I  know  not  where  I  read  the  following  story,  which, 
though  in  the  oriental  style,  was  doubtless  fabricated  in 
England :  — 

Tanghi,  a  young  and  gay  Chinese,  had  married  the 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  Arab,  whose  dowry  was  three  horses. 
Who  was  so  happy  as  Tanghi !  He  had  a  very  pretty 
wife  and,  what  in  some  countries  is  still  more  valuable 
than  women,  three  of  the  finest  horses  in  the  empire.  It 
is  no  wonder  that  Tanghi  was  disposed  to  make  a  gay 
appearance.  He  sported  his  horses  to  the  admiration  or 
envy  of  all  Pekin  ;  but  if  wisdom  is  sometimes  rash,  how 
should  folly  know  where  to  stop  ?  Tanghi  soon  sported 
away  his  property,  and  in  a  moment  of  distress  sold  his 
finest  horse  on  a  short  credit.  Tchin  Chan,  the  pur- 
chaser, had  a  very  particular  friend,  a  lawyer,  who  com- 
manded no  little  practice  at  Fekin.  This  friend  had 
long  desired  to  become  the  proprietor  of  at  least  one  of 
these  Arabian  horses ;  and  when  his  friend  Tchin  Chan 
informed  him  of  the  purchase,  the  lawyer  naturally  in- 
quired if  the  money  were  paid.  To  oblige  his  friend. 
Tchin  Chan  promised  to  refuse  payment.  The  lawyer 
immediately  wrote  a  note  to  Tanghi,  informing  him  that 
Tchin  Chan  designed  to  refuse  payment,  and  politely 
offered  his  services  in  recovering  the  money.  At  the  end 
of  nine  months,  Tanghi  got  judgment  for  the  whole  sum 
with  interest ;  but  Tchin  Chan,  by  the  advice  of  his  friend, 


214  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

appealed  to  a  higher  tribunal,  and  again  recovered  judg- 
ment for  the  money  with  interest.  After  another  appeal 
in  the  last  resort,  final  judgment  with  costs  and  interest 
was  given  in  favor  of  Tanghi,  for  the  Chinese  agree  with 
Sir  William  Blackstone  in  thinking  that  impartial  justice 
is  the  great  end  of  civil  society.  The  story  adds,  that 
just  before  final  judgment,  Tanghi's  two  other  horses  were 
attached  by  his  lawyer. 

Is  it  not  remarkable  that  legislation,  which  ought  to  be 
the  first,  has  in  all  countries  been  the  last  concern  of 
nations  ?  While  people  are  making  telescopes  twenty  feet 
long  to  discover  new  systems,  they  are  regardless  of  man. 
the  glory  of  their  own  system  !  Could  not  an  Englishman 
visit  the  United  States  and  retort  much  of  this  letter  ?  I 
believe  he  might. 

There  is  one  petty  institution  in  London  which  merits  all 
my  admiration.  It  is  the  only  instance  which  I  have  ever 
found  of  a  discrimination  between  the  rich  and  the  poor.1 
This  institution  is  the   Court  of   Requests   for  the  recov- 

1  It  is  very  true  the  laws  of  property  make  no  distinction  between  man  and 
man.  A  poor  man  is  secure  of  justice,  when  his  cause  comes  before  the  sacred 
tribunal,  but  if  he  do  not  perish  before  it  arrives  there,  he  may  possibly  find 
himself  buried  at  last  under  a  load  of  justice. 

Of  all  the  emperors  of  the  East,  Selim  was  the  most  just.  Not  a  day 
passed  in  which  it  was  not  proclaimed  from  the  tower  of  the  palace,  "  Selim 
is  just !  Selim  never  sleeps  while  injustice  triumphs."  The  name  of  Selim 
mingled  itself  with  the  religion  of  his  subjects.  No  praises  ascended  to 
Allah,  in  which  Selim  was  not  named  ;  uo  tears  were  shed  which  accused 
Selim ;  no  wrinkles  of  age  owed  a  deeper  furrow  to  the  account  of  Selim. 
His  presence  anions  his  people  was  as  benign  as  the  dew  of  heaven  to  the 
tropic  latitudes.  Razai  lived  far  from  the  capital,  content  to  cultivate  a 
few  paternal  acres.  An  opulent  neighbor  in  draining  his  own  lands,  had 
overflowed  the  little  patrimony  of  Razai.  In  vain  Razai  remonstrated,  and 
then  proceeded  to  the  capital  to  throw  himself  at  the  feet  of  Selim,  often 
repeating  on  the  way,  "Selim  is  just!  Not  a  day  passes  in  wdiich  is  not 
proclaimed  from  the  tower  of  the  palace,  Selim  never  sleeps  while  injus- 
tice triumphs."  Razai  had  never  seen  the  capital,  and  when  he  entered  it 
his  inquiring  eyes  ami  earnest  looks  arrested  the  attention  of  everybody. 
He  told  his  story  a  hundred  times  before  he  arrived  at  the  palace,  every 


LETTERS  FROM  LOXDOX.         215 

cry,  without  appeal,  of  debts  under  forty  shillings,  at  the 
expense  of  ten  pence !  There  are  many  of  these  petty 
courts  distributed  through  Westminster,  and  if  they  oper- 
ate without  abuse,  arc,  in  my  opinion,  not  less  illustrious 
than  the  most  noble  order  of  the  Garter. 

Such  institutions  in  the  capital  towns  of  the  United 
States  would  afford  an  alleviation  from  one  of  the  greatest 
pressures  under  which  the  poor  labor.  Such  courts  should 
command  the  whole  practice  under  ten  dollars  ;  and  if  the 
legal  fees  would  not  engage  a  lawyer  of  integrity  and  tal- 
ents, let  him  be  remunerated  from  the  county  treasury. 

It  would  not  be  less  glorious  than  beneficial  to  the 
United  States  should  the  Congress  commission,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  nation,  a  number  of  intelligent  men  to  bring 
home  all  that  is  better  in  other  countries  in  economy,  law, 
agriculture,  and  the  arts  of  life. 

Adieu. 

one  telling  him  that  Selim  -was  just,  ami  that  it  was  daily  proclaimed  from 
the  tower  that  Selim  never  slept  while  injustice  triumphed.  <He  approached 
the  palace,  and  just  before  he  entered  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  pro- 
claiming. "Selim  is  just!  Selim  never  sleeps  while  injustice  triumphs."  Razai'a 
heart  was  in  his  eyes, —  his  heart  was  all  over  him;  he  exclaimed  in  the  warmth 
of  his  feelings,  "  Selim  is  just!  and  I  shall  return  a  happy  man  to  Schirah." 
Razai  entered  the  palace,  and  thought  he  found  himself  already  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Selim,  so  splendid  was  the  person  who  received  him.  It  was  one  of 
Selim  s  favorite  officers  of  the  household.  Razai  related  his  case,  and  the 
officer  responded,  '•Selim  is  just!  But  all  who  approach  Selim  must  first 
purify  themselves  at  the  entrance  of  the  palace,  with  an  offering  to  justice." 
He  was  then  conducted  one  step  nearer  to  the  throne  of  Selim,  who  was  sit- 
ting in  judgment.  He  was  received  by  another  splendid  personage.  Razai 
related  his  story,  and  the  officer  replied,  "Selim  is  just !  Behold  the  eternal 
light  of  justice  !  bright  as  the  sun,  and  pure  as  his  rays  ;  but  all  who  approach 
Selim  must  first  nourish  this  lamp  with  oil."  This  done,  Razai  was  directed 
to  the  chief  Aga.  He  related  his  story  to  the  chief  Aga,  who  responded, 
"  Selim  i<  just !  But  all  who  approach  — ."  At  this  moment.  Razai  saw  sev- 
eral persons  returning  from  the  royal  presence.  With  a  heart  bursting, 
dubious,  alarmed,  he  cried  out,  "  Is  Selim  just !  "  With  one  voir, 
exclaimed,  •'  Selim  is  just !     But,  alas  !  we  perish  under  a  load  of  justice !  " 


216  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 


LETTER   XXII. 

London,  April  9. 

An  Englishman  once  recommended  to  his  son,  who  was 
about  to  travel,  to  go  forty  miles  to  see  a  man  of  letters, 
rather  than  five  to  see  a  famous  city.  The  republic  of  let- 
ters has  lost  nothing  of  its  ancient  liberality.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  wish  to  see  learned  men  in  order  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  their  society.  I  discovered  this  so  soon  that  I 
burned  most  of,  my  merchant-letters  of  introduction. 

I  am  acquainted  with  a  gentleman  who  seems  to  have 
studied  mankind  with  considerable  success.  He  is  learned, 
intelligent,  and  communicative  ;  and,  what  renders  these 
qualities  still  more  valuable,  he  is  not  an  author.  Of  two 
men  in  all  respects  equal,  I  prefer  the  company  of  him  who 
lias  not  written  a  book.1  Mr.  L.,  I  imagine,  is  past  fifty  ; 
this  with  me  is  a  recommendation.  His  age  and  intelligence 
give  him  an  authority  which,  in  general,  1  have  no  right 
to  dispute,  while  my  deference  disposes  him  to  confidence, 
and  raises  us  above  rivalry.  He  invited  me  some  time 
since  to  visit  St.  Paul's  on  some  pleasant  morning,  and 
from  its  eminence  to  take  a  view  of  the  city,  as  he  had 
not  seen  it,  he  said,  for  the  last  twenty  years  and  more. 
I  waited  on  him  yesterday  morning,  and  was  happy  to  find 
him  disposed  to  devote  the  day  to  this  purpose.  It  will 
be  a  memorable  occasion  with  me,  and  not  uninteresting 
to  you.  I  shall  therefore  commemorate  it  with  a  long 
letter. 

He  observed,  that  he  had  "  always  been  fond  of  cultivat- 
ing the  society  of  foreigners,  for  this  is  a  surer  means  of 

1  Those  who  have  written  hooks  are  sometimes  more  precise,  but  gener- 
ally dogmatical,  angular,  and  systematic. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  217 

understanding  the  peculiarities  of  a  people  than  reading 
either  their  history  or  the  fictions  of  travellers.  Those 
minutiffi  which  distinguish  the  domestic  character  of  one 
people  from  another  are  either  overlooked  or  thought  too 
trifling  to  claim  the  notice  of  the  historian,  while  the  trav- 
eller is  equally  ready  to  embellish  or  deform.  Hence  one 
nation  knows  very  little  of  another,  except  of  their  more 
prominent  or  excrescent  features.  You  have  heard  that 
the  Englishman  is  a  more  downright,  positive  character 
than  the  Frenchman  ;  but  you  will  understand  this  charac- 
teristic better  if  you  witness  a  conversation  between  them, 
—  the  one  will  use  the  indicative,  the  other  frequently  the 
subjunctive  mood."  He  added  :  "  Xo  man  can  be  ac- 
quainted with  foreigners,  if  they  appear  in  their  proper 
characters,  without  esteeming  their  nation  more  than  if 
he  had  never  seen  any  individual  of  that  nation.  You, 
sir,"  addressing  himself  more  particularly  to  me,  "  esteem 
the  English  more  than  you  did  before  you  visited  them." 

"  That  is  very  true,  sir,  but  I  esteem  England  less." 

"That  distinction  I  expected  you  would  make;  but  1 
would  permit  no  other  foreigner  to  make  it.  He  should  say 
that  he  esteemed  Englishmen,  but  admired  England." 

I  ought  to  have  premised  that  Mr.  L.  is  remarkably 
liberal,  except  when  a  subject  is  started  which  may  pos- 
sibly touch  hard  on  England  ;  and  though  a  bitter  dis- 
senter, he  is  not  less  an  Englishman. 

He  then  asked  me  if  I  took  notes  of  whatever  made  new 
impressions  upon  me. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall  note  the  particulars  of 
our  present  conversation." 

"  I  fear  you  will  prove  a  severe  judge." 

••  Why  so,  sir  ?  " 

"  Your  education  and  principles  will  lead  you  to  brandish 
the  scourge  of  satire,  rather  than  wanton  with  the  plume 


218  LETTERS  PROM  LONDON. 

of  panegyric ;  you  regard  society  as  a  wilderness  which 
mocks  at  the  pruning-hook  and  will  only  yield  to  the 
ploughshare.  You  ought  not  to  speak  of  England  before 
you  have  observed  the  state  of  society  on  the  continent." 

"  In  what  respect,  sir,  do  you  think  I  shall  suffer  my 
prejudices  to  bias  me?" 

"  Why,  for  instance,  you  cannot  behold  a  nobleman's 
country -scat  with  any  pleasure  ;  the  cottages  of  the  tenants 
remind  you  of  the  feudal  system ;  you  cannot  patiently  see 
a  fine  equipage, —  the  servants  before  and  behind  affect  you 
with  convulsions ;  nor  can  you  contemplate  his  Majesty 
with  any  complacency,.:— his  guards  suggest  the  pretorian 
bands ;  in  short,  you  are  not  pleased  to  see  a  rich  man, 
for  you  immediately  begin  to  calculate  the  number  of  the 
poor  which  one  rich  man  supposes.  But,  sir,  your  feelings 
carry  you  too  far ;  so  long  as  civil  society  exists  a  large 
portion  of  mankind  must  be  comparatively  poor.  Riches 
and  poverty  are  convertible  terms.  The  distinctions  among 
men  are  founded  in  Nature ;  as  in  a  forest,  you  may  ol>- 
serve  that  a  few  trees  are  kings  of  the  wood,  many  are 
on  an  equality  and  of  respectable  height,  but  a  greater 
number  are  mere  dwarfs  which  Nature  stints  (and  these 
in  resentment  grow  crooked  and  knotty),  besides  a  great 
quantity  of  furze  and  underwood." 

"  Nay,  sir,"  I  replied,  "  you  have  no  right  to  use  this 
illustration.  If  the  dwarfs,  the  furze,  and  the  underwood 
suffer  by  being  overshadowed  by  the  kings  of  the  wood, 
your  exposition  were  happy.  Besides,  sir,  Nature,  to  which 
you  appeal,  is  not  so  capricious  ;  you  have  coupled  together 
trees,  furze,  and  underwood,  three  different  species.  Now, 
we  find  in  inanimate  nature  a  certain  deference  to  equality 
among  members  of  the  same  species ;  but,  sir,  if  an  upas- 
tree  were  to  spring  up  on  the  equator  and  threaten  to 
overshadow  the  whole  world,  would  not  every  tree  of  the 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  219 

wood  be  interested  to  destroy  the  poisonous  influence  of 
this  tyrant  ?     You  carry  your  principles  too  far,  sir." 

He  smiled  at  iny  impetuosity. 

In  passing  down  Fleet  Street  we  saw  at  a  distance  a 
man  of  enormous  and  disproportionate  body.  "  Do  you  see 
that  man."  said  Mr.  L.,  "who  is  approaching  with  such 
hard  labor  ?  Twenty  years  ago  he  was  as  healthy,  active, 
and  well-proportioned  as  any  man  in  London  ;  but,  unfor- 
tunately, a  distant  relative  left  him  a  large  fortune.  This 
proved  his  ruin  ;  lie  abandoned  himself  to  indolence  and 
high  living,  consequently  to  gout  and  grossness.  The  fat 
soon  began  to  grow  about  his  eyes,  so  that  now  you  see 
lie  is  almost  blind  ;  doubtless  another  twelvemonth  will 
hermetically  seal  both  of  his  eyes." 

Soon  after,  he  pointed  to  a  little  court  which  we  passed, 
observing,  "  A  man  lives  in  a  back  apartment  there  wbo 
could  not  give  a  better  account  of  himself  for  the  last 
twenty  years  than  could  the  person  we  have  just  seen." 

I  asked  who  he  might  be. 

"  He  is  an  alchemist,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  in  search  of  the 
philosopher's  stone  ;  but,"  added  he,  "  I  have  known  only 
one  discoverer  of  the  secret :  he  knew  the  grand  art  of 
being  happy  without  it." 

"  But,  sir,  how  can  you  account  for  it  that  persons  in 
this  age  should  attempt  to  realize  fortunes  from  those 
speculations  wherein  thousands  have  miserably  failed  and 
not  one  person  has  ever  succeeded  ?  Nothing  equals  this 
in  the  history  of  madness  and  extravagance." 

••  V  -."  said  Mr.  L.,  "  notwithstanding  every  preceding 
adventurer  has  been  ruined,  notwithstanding  the  ridicule 
attached  to  the  pursuit,  notwithstanding  repeatedly  abortive 
experiments,  still  there  are  alchemists  who  persevere  in 
search  of  the  philosopher's  stone.  There  are  anomalies  in 
the  minds  of  men  which  perplex  the  deepest  research. 


220  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

"  We  have  on  record  several  instances  of  characters  not 
less  extraordinary  than  the  alchemists  of  our  day,  —  the 
character  of  Proxenus,  for  instance,  aa  drawn  by  Xenophon : 

"  '  Tavra  ovi>  <pi\oTTo\ep,ov  not  Soicei  dv8po>;  epya  aval,  oo"Tty, 
i%ov  fxev  elptjvTjv  ayeiv  avev  alayyvrfi  ical  j3\d/3rj<;  aipelrai 
7ro\ep,eiv  '  e%di>  Se  padvfielv,  j3ov\erat,  iroveiv  ware  TroXep.eii'  ■ 
e%ov  he  \p7jfiaTa  e%ei.v  dict,vhvv<o<;,  aipelrai  Tro\ep.oiv  fielova 
ravra  ^T^olelv.,  *■ 

"  Not  less  unaccountable  was  the  bias  of  the  mind  of 
Pyrrhus,  who  proposed  the  most  arduous  and  impossible 
exploits  as  the  means  of  attaining  to  that  eminence  which 
he  already  enjoyed. 

"  No  other  country  offers  so  much  encouragement  to  nov- 
elty, whether  useful,  capricious,  or  elegant ;  hence  every 
new  theory,  whether  of  utility  or  the  reverse,  is  elaborated  to 
perfection.  As  amidst  the  boundless  extravagance  of  this 
metropolis  nothing  is  lost,  so  among  the  still  more  extrava- 
gant imaginations  of  men  no  idea  which  can  be  wrought 
into  a  mechanical,  scientific,  or  literary  commodity  is  suf- 
fered to  float  in  vacuum,  but  is  fashioned  or  tortured  into 
profit.  Hence  you  find  thousands  of  quacks  of  all  descrip- 
tions whose  success  gives  them  a  degree  of  respectability, 
not  a  few  of  whom  have  probably  become  dupes  to  their 
own  quackery." 

"  Then,  sir,"  I  suggested,  "  all  mankind  are  quacks  ;  for 
I  have  never  known  a  man  who  had  not  entire  faith  in 
certain  errors,  in  support  of  which  he  would  have  set  a 
contrary  conviction  at  defiance." 

"  Nay,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  they  are  not  quacks  until  they 
expose  their  commodities  to  the  public,  or  thrust  their  sen- 
timents on  mankind.  If  a  man  really  believe  he  has  dis- 
covered a  panacea,  he  is  not  a  quack  if  the  secret  remain 
in  his  own  breast.     You  would  not  have  thought  Mahomet 

1  Anabasis,  bk.  ii.  6. 


LETTERS  FROM  LOXDOX.  221 

an  impostor  if,  after  his  death,  you  had  found  the  kuran  in 
his  cabinet." 

At  this  moment  a  quack  advertisement  was  put  into 
my  hands,  and  Mr.  L.  remarked,  "  There,  sir,  if  that  man 
should  swallow  his  own  pills  he  might  be  a  fool,  but  he 
would  not  be  a  quack." 

"  With  deference,  sir,  I  object  to  Mahomet ;  why  would 
he  not  have  been  an  impostor  ?  " 

"  He  would  have  been,  if  mankind  had  been  weak  enough 
to  believe  him  ;  so  would  the  author  of  the  Arabian  Nights' 
Entertainments.  So  also  would  Jacob  Behmen  and  Eman- 
uel Swedenborg  have  been  impostors  so  far  as  their 
works  were  thought  to  be  real  history  or  divine  authority 
rather  than  the  recreations  of  fancy  or  the  impulses  of 
delirium." 

We  now  approached  Ludgate  Hill,  on  the  eminence  of 
which  stands  St.  Paul's.  We  visited  several  apartments 
before  we  ascended  to  the  cupola.  In  one  of  the  apart- 
ments there  is  the  ancient  model  from  which  St.  Paul's 
was  built ;  and  being  ignorant  of  architecture  I  improved 
the  opportunity  of  learning  a  few  technical  terms,  I  asked 
what  a  certain  part  was  denominated ;  "  That  is  the  nave," 
said  the  person  who  waited  on  us. 

"  Do  you  not  know,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  that  there  is  usually 
a  nave  in  a  church  ? "  He  added,  "  Your  churches  are 
differently  modelled." 

I  was  proud  of  the  compliment,  and  told  him  I  believed 
the  clergy  in  the  United  States  really  were,  in  point  of 
morality  and  primitive  simplicity,  an  ornament  to  the 
country,  and  not  unworthy  successors  of  the  apostles. 

"  To  what  do  you  attribute  this  exemplary  carriage  ?" 

"  To  this,  sir,  that  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel  has  not 
in  the  United  States  mingled  with  politics,  and  produced  a 
religious  aristocracy.    You  know,  sir,  we  have  no  church 


222         LETTERS  PBOM  LONDON. 

establishment ;  there  is  unlimited  toleration  without  po- 
litical restriction.  Hence  among  the  various  sects  there 
is  a  spirit  of  Christian  emulation." 

"Then  you  do  not  think,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "that  Jesus 
Christ,  at  his  second  coming,  will  be  likely  to  call  on  my 
lords  the  bishops." 

"Our  Saviour  at  his  second  coming,  if  he  visit  any  one, 
will  visit  him  who  shall  have  most  of  his  own  spirit,  and 
will  be  more  likely  to  enter  a  cottage  than  a  palace." 

"  Yes,  he  doubtless  will,  if  he  appear  in  his  former  char- 
acter ;  for  he  would  be  obliged  to  work  all  his  miracles  over 
again  before  his  lordship  the  bishop  would  admit  him  into 
the  parlor.  However,  I  do  not  think  he  would  come  to 
England." 

"  Why  not,  sir  ?  " 

"  They  —  I  do  not  mean  the  Jews  —  would  put  him  to 
death  a  second  time." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  sir." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "you  do  not  understand  the 
manners  of  the  age." 

When  we  had  ascended  to  the  cupola,  I  reminded  him 
of  the  conversation  in  the  apartment  of  the  church  model. 
He  resumed  the  subject,  and  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  laws,  customs,  and  opinions  of  every  country, 
whether  good  or  bad,  whether  founded  in  truth  or  error, 
must  be  respected.  There  arc  two  species  of  treason, — 
one  of  sentiment,  or  theoretical,  the  other  overt  or  prac- 
tical. The  latter  is  regarded  by  all  governments  with 
more  lenity  than  the  former.  An  overt  act  of  treason 
has  its  particular  object,  and  the  law  has  defined  the 
nature  and  punishment  of  the  crime  ;  but  the  first  named 
species  of  treason  is  too  subtle  for  the  law.  It  can  neither 
be  anticipated  nor  defined  ;  hence  it  is  more  dangerous,  as 
it  infects  the  community  without  suspicion  and  tends  to 


LETTERS  FROM   LONDON.  223 

revolution  without  remedy.  We  ought  not  to  wonder, 
then,  at  the  jealousy  of  governments  when  new  opinions 
subversive  of  old  maxims  are  published  ;  for  every  govern- 
ment which  has  not  a  renovating  principle  soon  becomes  a 
tyranny,  and  is  interested  in  supporting  a  certain  set  of 
notions,  no  matter  whether  right  or  wrong. 

"  The  death  of  Socrates  has  been  considered  in  all  ages 
an  enormity  of  injustice,  scarcely  surpassed  by  the  cruci- 
fixion of  Jesus  Christ.  The  fate  of  this  man  has  caused 
lamentation  in  the  pulpit  and  tears  in  the  closet.  Who 
has  not  sympathized  with  the  old  bald  philosopher,  and 
been  ready  to  burst  the  prison,  snatch  the  bowl  of  hemlock 
from  his  hand  and  dash  it  on  the  floor?  Yet  let  us  for 
a  moment  inspect  the  conduct  of  this  philosopher.  The 
religion  of  his  country  had  been  settled  for  ages,  yet  he 
disturbed  the  State  by  introducing  new  and  disparaging 
the  established  gods.  He  endeavored,  as  Cato  the  Censor 
justly  remarked,  to  abolish  the  customs  of  his  country,  and 
draw  the  people  over  to  opinions  contrary  to  the  laws.  In 
what  country  or  in  what  age  would  Socrates  have  fared 
better  ?  If  such  a  man  were  to  appear  in  England  and 
maintain  principles  as  unconstitutional  and  as  abhorrent 
to  the  principles  of  the  lords-bishops  as  those  of  Socrates 
were  inconsistent  with  the  laws  and  received  notions  of 
the  Athenians,  he  would  awaken  a  resentment  which  might 
forget  for  a  moment  the  lenity  of  law. 

••  The  apostle  Paul  would  meet  with  a  worse  reception 
in  England  than  he  did  in  Greece  or  in  Rome.  If  we  con- 
sider for  a  moment  his  letters  to  the  Greek  and  to  the 
Roman  populace,  we  shall  be  surprised  at  the  clemency  of 
those  statesmen  who  so  long  tolerated  a  man  whose  doc- 
trines, inculcated  with  elevated  contempt,  not  only  trampled 
on  the  whole  national  mythology,  but  entered  the  cities  and 
expelled  the  auspicious  presiding  Lares  :  nay  more,  whose 


224  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

doctrines  pervaded  the  social  fire-hearths  and  exdomesti- 
cated  the  hallowed  Penates.  What  has  Paine,  Priestley, 
or  Price,  what  has  Tooke,  Wakefield,  or  Godwin  advanced 
so  offensive  to  the  feelings  of  the  present  age  as  were  the 
principles  of  Socrates  and  of  Saint  Paul  to  the  Atheni- 
ans and  the  Romans  ?  Now,  if  Christ  should  appear 
in  England  or  in  any  other  country  in  Europe  and  con- 
duct himself  exactly  as  he  did  in  Judca,  what,  sir,  do  you 
think  would  he  the  consequence  ?  He  would  doubtless 
find  many  followers,  but  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees  would 
feel  interested  —  first  to  deny  him,  and  then  to  put  him 
to  death." 

This  letter  is  already  too  long,  therefore  you  may  expect 
in  another  the  conclusion  of  the  expedition  to  St.  Paul's. 

Adieu. 


LETTER  XXIII. 

London,  April  16. 
After  the  remarks  to  which  the  nave  in  the  church  gave 
rise,  Mr.  L.  pointing  around  the  horizon  observed  with 
national  complacency :  "You  see  now  the  metropolis  of  the 
queen  of  isles.  The  name  of  London  excites  the  envy,  the 
hatred,  or  the  admiration  of  the  world. 

"  Her  fame  extends  as  far  as  winds  can  blow, 
Or  ships  or  fish  upon  the  waters  flow." 

He  added,  —  "There  is  more  public  spirit,  there  is  more 
amor  patrice,  and  when  the  people  are  oppressed  there  is 
more  obstinacy  of  resistance,  within  the  circumference  of 
ten  miles  here,  than  in  all  the  rest  of  Europe."     Then  with 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  225 

an  energy  which  transported  my  thoughts  to"  ancient  times, 
he  repeated  those  famous  lines  of  Alcieus  :  — 

Oi-  \1O01,  ovSt  £i'Aa,  ovSk  Ttxyr)  t&ctovim  at  tt6\us,  tiev,  aAA  ottov 
ttot  !xv  uxtiv  "ANAPE2  avrovs  <T<i>£,tiv  ti'Sures  ivravda  nal  TCL\t]  Kal 
Tro\ei5.1 

i ,"  continued  Mr.  L.,  "cast  your  eye  on  the  Thames, 
and  contemplate  the  innumerable  merchantmen.  The  per- 
fumes of  Arabia,  the  luxuries  of  the  South,  and  the  ele- 
gancies of  the  East  are  wafted  up  this  silver  stream,  and 
thence  distributed  through  a  thousand  channels,  to  gratify 
the  senses  of  this  happy  people.  Here  you  find  what  no 
other  people  ever  witnessed,  —  luxury  and  liberty,  commerce 
and  strength  of  character." 

"  Happy  the  man,"  thought  I,  "  who  in  the  midst  of  mis- 
ery and  ruin  sees  nothing  but  scenes  of  felicity.  Such  an 
one  will  find  flowers  in  December." 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  revery,"  said  Mr.  L. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  was  comparing  the  English  with  those 
blessed  spirits  of  Indian  paradise,  who,  reposing  half 
intoxicated  beside  water-falls,  on  the  banks  of  their  ely- 
sium.  sleep  only  to  dream  of  pleasure,  and  wake  only  to 
enjoyment.  Oh,  happy  people  of  Wapping,  did  you  but 
know  your  happiness!  For  you  the  luxuries  of  the  South 
and  the  elegances  of  the  East  are  landed  at  your  doors. 
Oh,  fragrant  tatterdemalions  of  St.  Giles's,  would  you  but 
incense  yourselves  with  the  perfumes  of  Arabia  !  " 

Mr.  L.  smiling  at  this  outburst,  observed  that  every  Picca- 
dilly and  Pall  Mall  must  have  a  St.  Giles's,  and  every  Fleet 
Street  and  Cornhill  a  Wapping.  He  then  asked  me  if  I 
had  ever  traced  the  progress  of  civil  society  from  its  first 

1  The  late  Arthur  W.  Austin,  Esq.,  a  son  of  the  author  of  this  volume, 
turned  these  and  other  lines  of  Alcens  into  verse  (see  "  The  Woman  and  the 
Queen  :  a  Ballad,  and  Other  Specimens  of  Verse."  Boston,  1875).  The  lines 
were  also  paraphrased  by  Sir  William  Jones  in  his  verses  entitled,  "  What 
Constitutes  a  State."  —  Ed. 

15 


226  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

rude  endeavors  to  its  present  state  of  social  affection  and 
accommodating  polity. 

He  added  :  "  Here  arc  nearly  a  million  of  people  in  this 
small  compass,  whose  interests,  views,  and  pursuits  cross 
one  another  as  do  the  streets  ;  yet  human  policy  has  con- 
trived to  divest  the  people  in  a  great  measure  of  Hobbs's 
principle,  and  has  rendered  them  the  most  pliant,  docile, 
and  submissive  of  all  animals.  In  a  state  of  Nature  cor- 
poral strength  dominates  the  mental  faculty.  Here,  all 
the  violences  of  a  state  of  Nature  are  usurped  under  law, 
custom,  prerogative,  privilege,  pride,  avarice,  and  fashion  ; 
and  what  would  be  considered  among  barbarians  refine- 
ment on  barbarity  is  effected  here  by  mutual  consent." 

"  I  pray  you,  sir,  particularize." 

"  Why,  for  example,  do  you  wish  to  banish  a  man  from 
his  country  ?  It  may  be  easily  effected,  at  the  same  time 
you  will  appear  to  confer  a  favor.  Do  you  wish  to  assas- 
sinate your  enemy.?  gain  his  confidence,  affect  friendship, 
anticipate  his  feelings,  administer  to  his  desires,  allure  him 
to  the  precipice,  and  in  the  degree  he  approaches  ruin,  you 
will  rise  in  his  esteem ;  but  if  you  wish  to  imbitter  his 
situation  with  a  knowledge  of  your  own  perfidy,  throw  him 
into  prison,  and  keep  him  there  for  life.  If  this  process  be 
too  tedious  there  is  a  more  direct  way.  If  the  man  be  in 
business,  coHude  with  his  creditors  and  employers.  Do  you 
wish  to  see  him  worn  to  a  skeleton  with  constant  fatigue  ? 
Garrow  shall  be  made  to  wear  away  his  eyebrows,1  and 
Erskine  and  Gibbs  shall  become  sallow  in  poring  over  dark 
questions,  —  darkened  still  more  with  the  glorious  uncer- 
tainty of  the  law,  —  while  the  judge  shall  daily  sit  seven 
hours2  on  the  Bench,  in  defiance  of  gout,  gravel,  and  stone. 

1  Mr.  Garrow  has  no  eyebrows,  and  no  wonder,  since  he  has  browbeaten 
so  many  witnesses. 

2  The  Chief-Justice  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  is  daily  on  the  Bench 
seven  hours  duriug  nearly  six  months  in  the  year. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  227 

In  one  word,  sir,  do  you  wish  to  send  your  enemy  to  bell, 
advise  him  to  take  orders,  and  offer  him  promotion  in 
the  church." 

"  But  I  am  most  surprised  that  this  immense  number  of 
people  who  live  at  the  expense  of  one  another,  and  who 
have  less  regard  for  their  neighbors  than  the  savage  has 
for  his,  should  contrive  to  live  in  a  compass  so  small.  I 
think  it  worthy  of  remark  that  the  most  populous  cities 
have  always  been  the  most  easily  governed." 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "those  who  are  most  enslaved  are 
most  obedient  to  their  rulers.  If  you  could  put  all  the 
Chinese,  Italians,  Germans,  and  Spaniards  into  a  washing- 
tub,  they  would  be  more  easily  go\«erned.  In  despotic 
States  the  people  are  more  quiet  and  passive  than  in  a 
monarchy  like  this.  Hence  more  enormities  are  com- 
mitted in  England  in  one  year  by  the  subjects  than  in  any 
other  country  in  Europe ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  fewer 
injuries  are  offered  to  the  subjects  under  the  sanction 
of  law." 

"  This  may  be  true,  sir,  with  respect  to  England,  but  how 
happens  it  that  in  the  United  States  —  a  country  so  free 
that  not  a  few  of  the  savages  have  preferred  it  to  Lake 
Huron,  or  the  more  temperate  regions  of  the  South-west 
—  fewer  enormities  arc  committed  by  the  subjects  there 
than  in  England.  To  particularize  :  In  the  most  strongly 
contested  elections  there  has  never  been  a  man  slain.  They 
cannot  say  this  at  Westminster  or  Nottingham." 

"  It  is  of  little  consequence  to  your  people,  who  their 
legislators  are,  so  long  as  the  Constitution  is  administered 
on  its  own  principles.  Now  the  probability  is,  that  of 
two,  three,  or  more  candidates,  all  will  support  the  Con- 
stitution. Hence  in  most  elections,  there  is  at  present 
with  your  people  no  other  than  a  personal  motive  of 
preference." 


228  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

"  I  instanced  but  one  particular.  Can  you  give  as  good 
a  reason  why  there  arc  fewer  crimes  of  every  description 
committed  in  the  United  States,  by  citizens,  than  in  any 
other  country  ? " 

Mr.  L.  candidly  allowed  that  the  difference  is  to  be  attrib- 
uted to  the  system  of  government. 

Mr.  L.  then  gave  the  conversation  another  turn  and 
remarked,  — "  There  was  once  a  merchant  in  extensive 
business  —  a  man  of  deep  calculation  and  great  foresight 
—  who  ascended  St.  Paul's  to  command  a  view  of  the  city. 
He  took  a  map  from  his  pocket,  and  stood  some  time  in 
melancholy  musing,  when  he  exclaimed,  '  Here  is  a  true 
picture  of  worldly  greatness ;  this  city  has  already  cost 
more  than  it  will  ever  be  worth  ! '  What,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  do 
you  imagine  was  the  process  of  this  merchant's  mind  ? " 

To  this  it  was  replied  :  "  Perhaps  he  was  a  West  India 
proprietor,  or  an  East  India  director,  or  a  great  stock  job- 
ber;  perhaps  he  was  all  these  together,  and  possibly,  he  had 
been  in  both  Indies  and  had  seen  in  the  East  those  jungles  ' 
of  which  Cornwallis,  the  successor  of  Mr.  Hastings,  wrote 
to  the  Company.  If  so,  the  ethereal  air  of  this  eminence 
might,  for  a  moment,  have  elevated  his  mind  above  personal 
consideration,  and  led  him  to  compare  the  affluence  and 
happiness  of  London  with  the  misery  and  oppression  of  all 
those  who  are  the  sources  of  your  greatness.  Then  casting 
his  eye  on  the  map,  and  reflecting  how  large  a  portion  of 
the  globe  was  at  that  moment  suffering  for  the  aggrandize- 
ment of  a  few  merchants,  he  was  naturally  led. to  exclaim, 
'  Auri  sacra  fames ! '  " 

While  I  was  saying  this,  I  perceived  that  Mr.   L.  was 

collecting  himself  for  a  violent  explosion.     In  his  opinion, 

1  Cornwallis  wrote  to  the  East  India  Company  that  three  fifths  of  the 
Company's  territory  had  become  a  jungle  ;  that  is,  deserted  by  the  natives,  and 
possessed  by  wild  beasts,  meaning  thereby  lions,  tigers,  leopards,  etc.,  not 
Englishmen. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON'.  229 

I  had  not  been  sufficiently  respectful  toward  the  majesty  of 
old  England. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  "you  have  totally  mistaken  the  mer- 
chant's meaning.  He  was  a  notorious  miser,  who  came 
here  for  the  pleasure  of  contemplating  the  various  situation 
of  his  own  estates,  but  being  apprehensive  of  the  depreci- 
ation of  real  estate  he  was  alarmed  for  his  property.  Com- 
merce, which  you  affect  to  undervalue,  is  the  grand  pillar 
of  our  strength  and  magnificence.  In  these  times,  a 
small  extent  of  territory  must  be  commercial  in  order  to 
maintain  its  entirety  and  independence  ;  the  people,  occu- 
pied in  commerce  and  manufactures,  must  depend  for  pro- 
tection on  the  military  resources  which  wealth  insures,  or 
at  least  suffer  a  dismemberment  of  the  kingdom.  Destroy 
our  commerce  and  you  instantly  wither  the  heart  of  Eng- 
land ;  those  thousand  veins  which  lead  from  a  thousand 
distant  extremities  in  so  many  directions  to  this  centre, 
would  cease  to  nourish  their  parent  source." 

This  was  conclusive,  so  far  as  it  related  singly  to  Eng- 
land ;  but  I  could  not  refrain  from  remarking  that  there  is 
no  mutual  benefit,  for  England  takes  profit  of  the  veins,  but 
affords  not  a  single  artery.     We  now  descended. 

After  I  returned  home,  I  fell  into  a  revery.  "  Here  is  a 
country,"  thought  I,  "  whose  greatness  is  built  on  the  oppres- 
sion and  slavery  of  all  those  who  are  connected  with  her  ; 
wherever  England  has  laid  her  hand,  she  has  left  the  print 
of  her  fingers.  Wherever  she  has  trodden,  she  has  blasted 
vegetation.  Of  whatever  country  she  has  gotten  possession, 
she  has  reduced  it,  either  to  a  state  of  slavery  or  to  desola- 
tion. The  moment  her  influence  is  felt,  it  either  rouses  the 
spirit  of  emigration,  or  impels  to  immediate  flight.1     The 

1  Yet  the  government  of  England,  when  it  destroys  its  enemies,  adores 
God*s  righteous  judgment :  when  it  is  likely  to  suffer,  it  cries  out  in  the  name 
of  heaven  and  earth  against  the  diabolical  machinations  of  its  enemies. 


230  LETTERS   FltOM   LONDON. 

fertile  fields  of  Ireland  show  noble  cattle,  but  a  fine  har- 
vest is  a  blessing  to  her  oxen,  not  to  her  people,  —  they  are 
^•excluded  from  God's  providence.  Even  Scotland,  reduced 
far  below  the  state  of  Nature,  and  weary  of  the  sight  of  her 
dear  native  hills,  banishes  herself  forever  to  the  frontiers 
of  America.  Nor  is  England  much  more  enviable  ;  she 
starves  her  subjects  to  fatten  her  horses.  If  this  be  the 
state  of  things  under  the  wing  of  the  Constitution,  what 
may  be  expected  at  the  extremities  of  the  empire  ?  If  Eng- 
land's West  India  possessions  were  sufficiently  extensive  to 
drain  Africa,  in  ten  years  the  race  of  negroes  would  be 
extinct.1  The  East  is  more  involved  in  darkness ;  and 
perhaps  it  is  more  honorable  to  humanity,  and  to  the  hon- 
orable East  India  Company,  that  this  history  should  never 
be  written  or  mentioned." 

Help  me  bless  God,  my  dear  fellow,  that  the  United 
States  are  not  within  the  influence  of  this  upas,  and  that 
we  are  nationally  guilty  of  but  one  enormity,  —  I  mean  the 
toleration  of  slavery. 

Oh,  heaven!  is  it  possible  that  in  the  United  States,  a 
country  where  the  purest  principles  of  legislation  which 
ever  adorned  civil  society  hold  sway ;  a  country  in  which 
the  human  character  is  already  elevated  to  a  superior 
degree,  as  compared  with  the  miserable  people  of  Europe  ; 
a  country  whose  principles,  tested  by  their  present  opera- 
tion, are  to  influence  future  ages  and  perhaps  sanction  the 
basest  crimes,  —  is  it  possible  that  in  such  a  country,  you 
can  find  a  "  slave  to  be  sold  "  ? 

What  abominable  impudence!  What  unheard  of  incon- 
sistency !  Let  other  people  who  do  not  acknowledge  our 
feelings    and    our    principles,   enslave    and    be    enslaved. 

1  It  has  been  ascertained  that  the  West  India  planters  are  obliged  to  im- 
port annually  at  the  rate  of  ten  per  cent,  on  their  stock.  I  submit  this  to 
Lord  Thurlow. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  231 

Europe  is  not  inconsistent!  She  never  acknowledged  the 
rights  of  man.  In  England,  —  whose  oppressions  have 
travelled  with  the  revolution  of  the  globe,  have  explored 
new  oceans,  and  have  extended  to  the  four  quarters  of  the 
world,  —  a  negro  is  as  free  as  a  Briton.  I  blush  for  my 
country;  and  I  have  been  made  by  Englishmen  to  blush 
for  my  country.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XXIV. 

London,  April  22. 

The  south  of  Europe  has  long  been  accustomed  to  call 
the  English  barbarians.  The  weaker  character,  which 
suffers  from  the  stronger,  is  readily  disposed  to  strong  epi- 
thets. The  degenerate  Greeks  termed  the  Romans  bar- 
barians. A  nation  of  slaves  will  always  be  inclined  to 
consider  their  neighbors  barbarous,  in  the  degree  they 
approach  natural  freedom.  This  opinion  of  foreigners 
ought  to  flatter  the  English  ;  they  would  be  little  disposed 
to  become  like  their  neighbors  in  order  to  be  more 
civilized. 

That  people,  whoever  they  may  be,  who  for  a  thousand 
years  have  neither  changed  their  constitution  of  govern- 
ment nor  their  religion,  nor  suffered  the  forcible  and 
infectious  intercourse  of  foreigners,  but  whose  laws,  cus- 
toms, manners,  and  sentiments,  kindly  bending  with  time 
and  circumstance,  are  nothing  more  than  emanations  from 
the  spirit  of  their  government,  will  regard  the  English 
as  a  monstrous  sort  of  people. 

However,  it  must  be  couceded  that  foreigners  have  some 
little    color   for  their  opinion,  though   they  are  not  suffi- 


232  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

ciently  candid  to  inquire  the  reason.  The  English  have 
been  so  frequently  bandied  about  and  suffered  so  many 
modifications  within  a  thousand  years  that  one  part  of 
their  character  is  at  least  two  centuries  behind  the  other. 
This  will  ever  be  the  case  where  the  original  stock  of  a 
nation  like  the  English  has  suffered  so  many  ingraftings 
and  revolutions.  Jn  order  that  laws,  customs,  and  manners 
may  keep  pace  with  civilization,  it  is  necessary  that  the 
people  should  preserve  their  principles  and  their  individ- 
uality, and  lie  neither  retarded  nor  hastened  in  their  career. 
But  if  a  people  be  not  free  when  they  enter  the  social  con- 
federacy, those  checks  which  they  may  receive  and  those 
foreign  inroads  which  will  partially  destroy  their  individu- 
ality are  as  likely  to  benefit  as  to  injure. 

The  English,  you  very  well  know,  have  been  peculiarly 
subject  to  those  impressions  which  revolutions  leave 
behind  ;  and  no  revolution  can  happen  without  exciting 
the  worst  passions  into  action,  and  transmitting  them  to 
posterity. 

As  we  learn  from  history,  this  people  were  at  one  time 
little  better  than  savages.  Propitious  events  have  led  them 
to  comparative  freedom  ;  but  these  events  have  rendered 
the  English  the  most  complex  characters  in  Europe  by 
not  always  happening  at  that  period  of  their  civilization 
which  was  most  conducive  to  their  advantage.  I  give  an 
instance. 

From  the  moment  Magna  Charta  was  signed,  the  Eng- 
lish fancied  themselves  free  ;  the  nobles,  indeed,  attained 
their  object.  The  people  also  were  proclaimed  free ;  but 
they  had  not  more  of  the  spirit  of  freemen  than  has  the 
slave  who  rests  on  his  spade  and  listens  to  the  song  of 
liberty.  They  were  not  then  ready  for  freedom.  The 
issue  of  the  Revolution  of  1G88  was  the  best  constitution 
of  government  which  modern  Europe — which  perhaps  the 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         233 

world  had  ever  witnessed.  The  English  were  then  free  ; 
unfortunately  their  freedom  came  too  late.  Liberty  for 
the  first  time  found  herself  seated  on  the  couch  of  com- 
merce. The  consequence  might  have  been  foreseen  ;  an 
evil  has  grown  up  with  the  English  Constitution  which  has 
long  since  proved  its  ruin. 

There  is  but  one  period  allotted  to  any  people  in  which 
they  can  establish  their  freedom.  Prior  to  this  period  they 
are  too  barbarous ;  posterior  to  this  period  they  are  too 
civilized.  The  Romans  under  the  auspices  of  Lucius 
Junius  Brutus  seized  the  happy  moment.  In  process  of 
time  they  gradually  lost  their  liberty  ;  yet  they  knew  not 
precisely  how  nor  when ;  but  lost  it  certainly  was  in  the 
days  of  Marina  and  Sulla.  Brutus,  some  time  after,  en- 
deavored to  restore  the  liberty  of  his  country,  but  it  was 
too  late.  Lacedcemon  offers  a  similar  remark.  Lycurgus 
established  what  might  then  be  called  freedom  ;  but  after 
a  few  centuries,  neither  Agis  nor  Cleomenes  could  renovate 
departed  principles. 

I  will  also  instance  the  Reformation.  This  happened  at 
a  period  fortunate  for  the  people.  The  Roman  Catholic 
religion  when  it  has  its  proper  operation,  is  an  effeminate 
religion  and  tends  to  precocious  civilization.  Had  the  Eng- 
lish continued  Roman  Catholics  until  now  they  would  have 
been  much  weaker  characters  than  they  are  at  present. 
Though  the  Reformation  strengthened  the  national  char- 
acter of  the  English,  yet  a  change  of  religion  in  any  coun- 
try will  awaken  the  most  ferocious  passions,  unless  there 
be  an  absolute  toleration  without  political  restriction  and 
disability.  The  injuries  which  the  Dissenters,  who  are 
one-fifth  part  of  the  nation,  have  suffered  from  the  Church 
of  England,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  hard  feelings  which 
the  Churchmen  indulge  against  the  Dissenters  have  given 
an  impression  little  favorable  to  the  English  character. 


23-4  LETTERS  PBOM  LONDON. 

Political  dissensions,  which  have  been  urged  further  in 
England  than  among  any  other  people  except  those  who 
ranged  themselves  as  Guelphs  or  Ghibellines,  have  also 
served  to  render  this  people  barbarians  in  the  eyes  of 
foreigners. 

The  beheading  of  Charles  the  First,  the  usurpation  of 
Cromwell,  and  the  consequences  of  the  abdication  of 
James  the  Second,  all  had  their  effects.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  revert  so  far  back  as  the  days  of  York  and  Lancaster. 

In  the  opinion  of  foreigners,  the  inhuman  code  of  crimi- 
nal law  tolerated  by  the  English  is  little  favorable  to  the 
national  character.  If  we  reason  only  from  their  criminal 
laws,  without  reference  to  the  state  of  society,  it  would  be 
a  fair  conclusion  that  the  English  are  either  the  worst  or 
the  most  barbarous  people  on  earth.  They  have  very  hu- 
manely abolished  torture,  but  they  have  retained  the  death- 
penalty.  Their  humanity  cannot  endure  the  broken  arm, 
the  lacerated  body,  the  quivering  flesh  of  the  criminal ; 
but  a  simple  hanging  affects  them  as  little  as  the  loss  of  a 
sheep,  a  sorry  horse,  or  forty  shillings.  I  have  heard 
Erskine  laboriously  address  a  jury,  in  the  presence  of  the 
Chief-Justice  of  England,  in  behalf  of  five  pounds  ;  yet  if 
a  man's  life  be  at  stake,  no  counsel  is  allowed  the  felon, 
whatever  may  be  the  palliating  circumstances,  lest  the 
jury,  more  humane  than  the  law,  should  be  driven  to 
compassion. 

The  commonalty  of  the  English  have  a  most  ferocious 
appearance  ;  but,  as  far  as  I  have  observed,  it  is  only  an 
appearance.  We  cannot  expect  that  the  deportment  of 
those  who  bear  the  whole  weight  of  society  should  be  so 
engaging,  or  their  countenances  so  rounded  with  compla- 
cency, or  their  dispositions  so  placid  as  we  should  expect,  if 
their  lives  were  exempt  from  the  pressure  of  daily  anxiety. 
If  two   men  have  originally  the  same  features,  different 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         235 

pursuits  will  so  entirely  change  their  physiognomies  that 
Lavater  would  have  classed  them  in  different  species. 
Another  pursuit  might  have  converted  the  hard  features 
and  sallow  complexion  of  the  lawyer  into  the  round 
lineaments  and  ruddy  glow  of  the  bishop.1 

In  fine,  a  people  who  have  suffered  so  many  impressions 
as  have  the  English  cannot  have  a  nicely  distinct  char- 
acter :  like  the  senators  of  Tiberius,  they  will  be  likely  to 
have  all  the  airs  of  freemen,  with  the  conduct  of  slaves ; 
and  to  those  who  are  both  slaves  in  their  manners  and 
actions  the  English  will  seem  barbarians  ;  yet  these  bar- 
barians have  been  governed  by  women,  and  were  quiet 
subjects  under  petticoat  government. 

There  are  only  two  marks  in  England  of  a  very  bar- 
barous people.  The  first  concerns  the  inhabitants  of  Lon- 
don and  the  other  great  cities  only,  a  large  portion  of 
whom  spend  their  days  below  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
This  is  owing  to  the  lack  of  accommodation,  which 
obliges  them  to  convert  their  cellars  into  kitchens.  The 
other  mark  concerns  the  women  only  ;  like  many  barbarous 
people  they  paint,  but  with  this  difference, —  the  former 
to  look  like  angels,  the  latter  to  look  like  the  devil. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XXV. 

London,  April  29. 
The  English  ordinaries  and  eating-houses  offer  an  in- 
exhaustible source  of  observation  on  the  national  character 
and  manners.     You  meet  not  only  with  all  descriptions  of 

1  The  business  men  are  chiefly  conversant  in  does  not  only  give  a  cer- 
tain cast  or  turn  to  their  minds,  bnt  is  very  often  apparent  in  their  outward 
behavior.  —  Sjtectator,  No.  197. 


236  LETTERS  PEOM  LONDON. 

London  people,  but  likewise  with  French,  Irish,  Scotch, 
and  country  people ;  and  you  may  choose  your  company, 
from  the  most  humble  to  the  most  exalted ;  that  is,  you 
may  choose  the  price  of  your  dinner,  from  sixpence  to  a 
guinea.  You  arc  not  troubled  with  the  least  ceremony  ;  if 
you  wish  for  nothing  more  than  a  dinner,  you  have  only  to 
enter  these  places,  hang  up  your  hat  or  keep  it  on  your 
head,  sit  down,  look  at  your  bill  of  fare,  call  for  your  din- 
ner, pay  for  it,  and  go  away. 

A  Londoner  generally  enters  the  room  and  observes  no- 
body, plants  himself  firmly  at  the  table,  then  in  an  airy 
manner  breaks  his  bread  in  halves,  falls  to,  says  not  a  word 
during  his  dinner,  —  which  he  masticates  rather  slowly, 
yet  swallows  too  quickly  for  his  health, —  rises  from  table 
in  resolute  reserve,  and  retires  from  the  room  as  he  would 
from  a  cavern.  The  Frenchman,  on  the  contrary,  makes  a 
general  bow  when  he  enters,  no  matter  who  the  company 
may  be,  carefully  hangs  up  his  hat,  sits  and  adjusts  him- 
self, cuts  his  bread,  eats  his  dinner  rapidly,  sits  a  little 
while,  converses,  and  retires  with  a  general  bow. 

If  you  are  willing  to  make  an  effort,  you  may  often  en- 
gage a  Londoner  in  conversation,  especially  if  he  thinks 
you  are  a  grade  above  him,  otherwise  he  may  regard  you 
as  impertinent.  The  Scotch,  Irish,  and  country  people 
are  more  sociable  at  table,  —  the  country  people  from 
curiosity,  the  Scotch  with  a  view  to  information,  the  Irish 
frequently  from  a  love  of  rodomontade. 

However  reserved  and  indifferent  people  may  be,  they 
never  so  fairly  lay  themselves  open  as  at  their  meals.  On 
no  other  occasions  did  the  pagan  gods  and  goddesses  so 
openly  betray  their  origin  in  human  invention  as  at  their 
jovial  feasts  of  nectar  and  ambrosia.  At  table,  the 
divine  forgets  his  system,  the  physician  his  last  fatal  ex- 
periment, and  the  lawyer   no  longer  casts  a   side    glance 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  237 

at  his  neighbor's  pocket.  All  being  on  an  equality  at 
these  places,  those  who  are  so  disposed  feel  no  embar- 
rassment in  giving  themselves  up  to  their  natural  im- 
pulses. The  most  grave  will  sometimes  be  induced  to  for- 
get their  affectation,  while  those  who  claim  their  parentage 
from  Mercury  and  hold  to  the  "  dulce  est  dissipere  in 
loco  "  desire  no  better  place  to  worship  the  god  than  these 
liberal  institutions  afford.  Not  knowing  that  they  shall 
ever  see  one  another  again,  they  scarcely  feel  responsible 
for  the  sentiments  they  utter,  and  hence  they  sport  their 
opinions  on  men  and  things,  and  not  infrequently  throw 
out,  as  though  by  chance,  dubious  yet  favorite  notions, 
in  order  to  ascertain  their  probable  currency  with  the 
world. 

If  you  wish  to  study  human  nature  you  can  see  it  in  all 
alive,  provided  you  are  willing  to  adapt  yourself.  There 
is  not  a  grade  in  society  with  which  you  may  not  familiar- 
ize yourself;  but  then  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  various  and 
extensive  wardrobe,  otherwise  you  will  miss  your  object. 
Under  the  late  administration,  the  Venetian  custom  of 
spying  out  people's  opinions  was  adopted  ;  so  that  every 
man  was  suspicious  of  the  company  in  which  he  chanced 
to  be.  It  is  not  exactly  so  now,  though  I  have  been 
shocked  more  than  once  by  the  remains  of  this  poison 
of  social  intercourse.  Figure  to  yourself  a  party  of 
6trangers  flung  back  in  their  chairs  in  all  the  security 
of  good-humor  and  ingenuous  remark,  struck  dumb  on 
the  entrance  of  a  person  suspected  for  a  pointer  of  gov- 
ernment commissioned  to  scent  out  sedition.  You  would 
imagine  the  Roman  "delators"  revived  again.  Had  I  been 
in  London  during  certain  late  years  I  should  have  felt 
myself  at  Venice,  and  should  never  have  passed  Cold  Bath 
Fields  without  being  reminded  of  the  Inquisition.  How 
different  in  the  United  States !     If  a  person  dislikes  the 


238         LETTERS  PEOM  LONDON. 

administration  of  government  he  says  bo  in  the  open  mar- 
ket, in  the  public  streets,  in  popular  assemblies,  nay,  more 
—  a  custom  which  I  disapprove  —  in  the  pulpit,  in  those 
places  dedicated  to  divine  harmony !  If  his  abuse  be 
mingled  with  any  sort  of  reason  it  is  listened  to;  if  it 
be  scurrilous,  it  is  only  laughed  at,  or  rendered  harmless 
by  inattention.  In  a  good  government  seditious  infection 
is  never  dangerous;  it  is  not  contagious;  it  cannot  find 
matter  on  which  to  operate  ;  by  its  dissipation  it  is  rarefied, 
cleansed,  or  annihilated. 

The  same  person,  if  he  choose,  in  the  course  of  a  week 
may  parade  Bond  Street  in  the  morning ; 1  gamble  in  the 
evening  with  knights  and  noblemen ;  show  himself  at 
Hungcrford's,  and  discourse  of  redoubts,  battles,  sieges,  or 
broadsides,  captures,  and  prize-money  ;  shift  his  dress,  and 
dine  and  dance  with  the  beggars  in  St.  Giles's ;  look  in  at 
the  Stock  Exchange  Coffee-House,  and  affect  the  man  of 
business ;  or  go  to  Wapping,  be  entertained  for  sixpence, 
and  pass  himself  off  for  an  accomplished  sailor. 

No  wonder  the  London  wits  should  write  good  comedies ; 
they  can  pick  up  a  character  every  day  ;  and  if  they  are  at 
a  loss  for  a  whole  character  they  can  readily  put  together 
two  halves.  A  stock-jobber  and  a  politician  will  always 
make  an  excellent  knave ;  and  if  a  pensioner  with  a 
courtier  will  not  make  a  complete  parasite,  they  can  add 
a  lord  bishop.  I  am  acquainted  with  a  comic  writer  who 
told  me  he  met  a  man  at  an  ordinary  who  afforded  him  the 
hero  of  his  most  successful  comedy  ;  but  it  cost  him,  he 
added,  more  than  a  week  before  he  could  perfectly  catch 
his  hero. 

If  you  wish  to  know  how  the  petty  cooks  can  afford  to 

1  Those  who  are  termed  "  Bond-Street  loungers  "  consider  mid-day  mid- 
night ;  hence  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  is  early  dawn.  These  gentlemen 
are  frugal  in  one  respect,  —  they  save  their  breakfasts. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         239 

give  you  a  dinner  for  sixpence  or  less,  I  will  tell  you  what 
1  learned  at  Wapping,  where  1  dined  for  fourpenee  half- 
penny including  a  farthing  to  the  waiter,  who  was  very 
much  obliged  to  me.  1  was  told  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
more  respectable  ordinaries  and  eating-houses  to  sell  their 
leavings  to  the  next  less  great  houses  ;  these  in  their  turn 
sell  again,  SO  nothing  is  lost;  but  a  part  of  that  dinner 
which  is  eaten  at  a  high  price  at  the  west  end  of  the  town 
is  eaten  at  Wapping,  perhaps  a  fortnight  after,  for  four- 
pence.  Tims  the  delicious  viands  of  the  rich  degenerate 
at  length  into  twopenny  broth  for  the  poor.  This  may 
offend  a  delicate  stomach,  but  hunger  never  reasons,  and 
as  the  sailors  say,  "  Poison  is  killed  by  boiling,  and  what 
will  not  poison  you  will  fatten  you."  Some  of  these  cook- 
shops  boast  of  more  liberality  than  others.  They  give  you 
a  tablecloth,  a  pewter  plate  and  a  spoon,  and  do  not  de- 
mand your  money  until  you  have  dined ;  while  others  will 
make  you  pay  before  you  eat  a  mouthful,  and  will  trust  you 
with  nothing  but  a  wooden  plate,  a  wooden  bowl  and  a 
wooden  spoon. 

The  different  sorts  of  men  whom  you  meet  at  these 
places  arc  remarkable.  If  it  did  not  excite  the  most  de- 
basing ideas,  it  would  be  humorous  to  converse  some- 
times with  a  class  of  men  you  find  at  these  places,  whose 
stupid  ignorance  would  disgrace  a  Hottentot.  If  they 
have  Half  an  idea,  they  know  not  enough  of  the  English 
language  to  convey  even  that.  They  seem  to  have  been 
born  in  a  cockle-shell  and  have  never  burst  their  confine- 
ment. Locke  possibly  got  his  opinion  that  the  human 
mini  was  like  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  from  his  knowledge 
of  this  description  of  men,  whom  you  may  find  in  every 
cook-shop.  They  are  so  profoundly  stupid,  they  scarcely 
know  whence  they  came,  where  they  arc,  or  whither  they 
are    going  ;    yet    frequently   they   possess    a    remarkable 


24C  LETTERS  FEOM  LONDON. 

sagacity  in  whatever  is  directly  connected  with  their  oc- 
cupations,—  a  fair  proof  that  they  once  had  minds  capable 
of  discernment.  Therefore  they  ought  not  to  be  classed 
by  naturalists  as  a  distinct  species,  though  they  are  gen- 
erally considered  such  by  certain  politicians. 

As  you  know  not  who  your  company  are,  you  may  be  as 
likely  to  dine  with  a  pickpocket  as  with  a  saint.  One  day, 
after  a  genteel  person,  whose  conversation  was  very  intelli- 
gent, had  retired  from  table,  I  was  asked  if  I  knew  him. 
Answering  in  the  negative,  I  was  informed  that  he  was 
reputed  to  be  a  highwayman.  This  will  probably  surprise 
you,  but  it  ought  not.  In  such  a  city  as  this,  and  in  such 
a  country,  where,  if  a  man  is  willing  to  brave  suspicion,  the 
law  waits  until  he  affords  full  proof,  a  person  may  pos- 
sibly pass  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in  the  business  of  a 
highwayman,  parade  the  public  walks  every  day,  and  even 
affect  the  highest  style  of  splendor,  and  all  the  while  under 
the  strongest  suspicions,  yet  no  one  will  venture  to  arrest 
him,  or  to  charge  him  with  his  crimes.  Although  a  thou- 
sand witnesses  should  testify  that  they  were  robbed,  and 
could  almost  testify  they  were  robbed  by  the  prisoner,  yet 
they  must  more  than  almost  identify  his  person,  which  is 
extremely  difficult  on  account  of  his  mask  ;  otherwise  he 
would  assuredly  be  acquitted.  Our  own  criminal  laws  are 
similar.  The  same  person  who  informed  me  of  this  reputed 
highwayman,  remarked  that  most  persons  of  this  class  are 
well  known  to  the  Bow-Street  "  runners."  '  Like  other  as- 
sociated bodies,  they  frequently  assemble  at  known  public- 
houses  and  the  Bow-Street  runners  are  on  tolerable  civil 
terms  with  them.  For  instance,  if  one  of  these  runners 
should  demand  admittance  to  their  assemblies,  which  is 
frequently  the  case,  he  would  be  admitted,  though  treated 
in  the  most  laconic  style.  Thus  :  "  Whom  do  you  want?" 
1  Officers  of  justice  employed  to  pursue  suspected  persons. 


LETTER?  FROM  LONDON.  241 

The  runner  names  the  person  if  he  sees  him,  who  replies, 
"  I  will  wait  on  you  directly."  If  the  runner  says  the  per- 
son whom  he  wants  is  not  there,  the  reply  is,  "Well,  then, 
off  and  be  damned ! "  Such  persons  as  are  arrested  and 
carried  off  arc  called  "  flats  "  by  tbeir  associates. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XXVI. 

Loxdox,  May  8. 

I  purpose  in  this  letter  to  answer  your  important  ques- 
tion respecting  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  ;  and 
to  render  the  subject  less  tedious,  I  shall  introduce  the 
English  system  by  way  of  comparison. 

The  Constitution  of  England  is  said  to  be  the  strongest 
form  of  government  which  the  world  has  witnessed.  This 
is  too  general :  a  government  may  be  very  strong  in  its 
political  operations,  and  yet  of  very  brief  duration.  A 
strong  government  implies  stability  as  well  as  energy. 
Otherwise  an  absolute  monarchy  is  the  strongest  of  all 
the  three  original  forms.  Age,  not  energy  and  dispatch, 
is  the  mark  of  a  strong  government ;  still,  duration  is  not 
a  sure  sign  of  its  excellence. 

It  will  be  worth  the  labor  to  prove  that  the  government 
of  the  United  States  is  as  strong  as  that  of  England.  I 
shall  go  further,  and  from  the  natural  bias  of  man's  mind, 
reasoning  on  the  causes  of  revolution,  shall  satisfy  you,  I 
believe,  from  analogy,  that  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  is  even  stronger  than  that  of  England. 

Dating  from  1602,  the  Constitution  of  England  is  one 
hundred  and  eleven  years  old.  An  Englishman  will  prob- 
ably date  from  the  reign  of  King  John;  but  with  whatever 

16 


242         LETTEKS  FROM  LONDON. 

triumph  he  should  appeal  to  Magna  Charta,  the  successive 
tyrannies  which  the  nation  experienced  down  to  the  time  of 
James  the  First  were  still  more  ignominious,  if  England 
really  had  a  free  Constitution  to  which  to  appeal.  What 
cheek  had  Henry  the  Eighth,  or  with  what  reference  did 
Elizabeth  govern  England?  Her  authority  was  a  perfect 
despotism,  confessedly  mild,  but  undefined  and  uncon- 
trolled, which  frowned  down  all  opposition  into  disaffection 
and  treason.  James  the  First,  though  personally  as  weak 
as  the  Emperor  Claudius,  felt  himself  not  less  absolute ; 
and  Charles  the  Second,  had  he  been  less  a  buffoon,  might 
have  revived  the  days  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 

The  English  would  be  wise  to  appeal  to  history  in  sup- 
port of  one  dubious  point  only,  —  which,  if  true,  is  worthy  of 
the  remark,  "  If  we  were  once  slaves,  we  are  now  free." 
Most  people  are  tied  down  to  the  sorry  reflection,  "  If  we 
were  once  free,  we  are  now  slaves." 

Allowing  the  Constitution  of  England  to  be  as  old  as 
Magna  Charta  —  which  I  myself  would  allow,  could  I  find 
a  single  reason  for  so  doing — it  unfortunately  proves  too 
much  ;  for  the  repeated  revolutions  England  has  undergone 
since  that  period  argue  a  weakness,  which  totally  destroys 
every  claim  to  stability. 

The  Constitution  of  England  is  one  hundred  and  eleven 
years  old,  that  of  the  United  States  only  fourteen.  Both 
have  this  merit,  —  a  change  of  public  officers  may  happen 
in  either  country  without  a  revolution,  or,  to  speak  more 
precisely,  without  affecting  the  Constitution.  That  this 
total  change  should  occur  in  England  there  is  scarcely  a 
remote  possibility,  because,  agreeably  to  Mr.  Burke's  posi- 
tion, the  king  himself  enjoying  the  fee  simple  of  the  British 
empire,  and  his  own  consent  being  necessary  to  effect  such 
a  change,  it  cannot  be  expected  a  king  of  Great  Britain  will 
surrender  his  family  inheritance.     The  change  of  public 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  243 

officers  has  already  happened  in  the  United  States,  and 
successive  changes  will  more  firmly  establish  the  Constitu- 
tion. The  sovereign  people  perceiving  how  easily  a  change 
may  be' wrought  when  the  government  is  either  weakly  or 
corruptly  administered,  will  not  be  disposed  to  proceed  to 
those  violences  which  are  necessary  in  England,  if  the 
original  compact  between  the  people  and  government 
should  be  so  far  superseded  as  to  warrant  a  revolution. 

Tbe  Constitution  of  England  cannot  be  contemplated  ex- 
cept with  reference  to  King,  Lords,  and  Commons.  Hence 
the  affections  of  the  subjects  are  regulated  by  their  con- 
sideration for  the  reigning  prince,  and  by  the  degree  of 
respect  which  the  House  of  Lords  attaches  to  itself,  but 
particularly  by  the  independence  or  facility  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  Thus  the  long  reign  of  a  weak  prince,  succes- 
sive unpopular  ministers,  together  with  an  unprincipled 
House  of  Commons,  would  weaken,  if  they  did  not  ren- 
der contemptible,  the  Constitution.  In  the  United  States 
the  citizen  contemplates  the  existing  administration  with- 
out a  necessary  reference  to  the  Constitution  ;  they  are  two 
distinct  things.  Now,  no  administration  can  be  long  in 
power  without  becoming  in  a  certain  degree  odious  ;  and 
this  odium  attaches  to  the  Constitution  in  the  degree  that  a 
change  of  administration  is  more  or  less  practicable.  But 
the  citizens  of  the  United  States  are  in  no  danger  of  this 
disaffection.  There  is  scarcely  a  possibility  that  abuses 
should  gain  stremrth  in  spite  of  the  Constitution;  there  is 
no  danger  that  the  first  abuse  will  take  root,  perpetuate  it- 
self, and  rise  to  enormity.  In  one  word,  the  Parliament 
does  not  so  much  flow  from  the  Constitution  of  England, 
as  the  Constitution  flows  from  the  Parliament.  The  King, 
Lords,  and  Commons  are,  in  a  very  great  degree,  para- 
mount to  the  Constitution,  while  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States  is  paramount  to  the  Congress. 


_'44  LETTERS  FROM   LONDON. 

Further,  the  Constitution  of  England  is  unwritten,  and 
known  only  to  the  people  by  its  operation.  It  has  indeed 
been  questioned  if  the  English  have  any  real  Constitution. 
Whatever  is  undefined  cannot  admit  of  reasoning.  Argu- 
ment may  forever  flutter  round  the  dubious  point,  but  can 
never  rest.  More  than  this,  the  most  carefully  worded 
statutes  are  frequently  defeated  by  the  ingenuity  of  the 
lawyers,  and  every  new  act  of  Parliament  extends  the  field 
of  litigation.  To  what  a  labored  debate  did  the  question 
of  our  federal  judiciary  give  rise !  Yet  both  parties  con- 
stantly appealed  to  the  first  section  of  the  third  article  of 
the  Constitution  which  contains  but  seven  lines.  Now, 
if  the  sagacity  of  the  wise  be  frequently  liable  to  wander 
in  doubt,  or  falter  in  perplexity,  an  unwritten  Constitu- 
tion is  prima  facie  much  worse  than  none,  by  reason 
of  its  lending  itself  on  all  occasions  as  a  sanction  to 
Parliament. 

Let  us  confess  the  truth  :  the  English  are  the  freest  peo- 
ple in  Europe.  Whence  does  this  arise  ?  From  that  portion 
of  the  Constitution  called  the  common  law,  which  recog- 
nizes three  grand  popular  prerogatives,  —  the  right  of  per- 
sonal liberty,  the  right  of  personal  security,  and  the  right 
of  private  property.  One  might  suppose  that  the  English- 
man intrenched  behind  these,  would  hurl  defiance  at  oppres- 
sion ;  but  unfortunately  these  prerogatives  are  continually 
liable  to  be  superseded  by  a  paramount  prerogative  of  the 
Constitution.  Insure  an  Englishman  his  common  law,  and 
he  will  scarcely  contend  for  his  Constitution  ;  while  the  citi- 
zen of  the  United  States  not  only  reposes  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  common  law,  which  certainly  is  well  calculated 
for  people  asleep,  but  he  awakes  to  assert  and  claim  the 
positive  rights  of  a  well-defined  Constitution. 

The  common  law  is  founded  on  equality,  its  chief  excel- 
lence.    This  sometimes  srives  the  lowest  of  the  Ensrlish  a 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         245 

dignity  to  which  slaves  are  insensible.  But  the  common 
law  is  barely  protective,  while  the  Constitution  offers  lit- 
tle on  which  the  people  may  rest  their  fondest  hopes. 
Not  so  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States ;  with  all 
the  equality  of  the  common  law  it  acts  on  the  citizens  as 
an  incentive,  not  only  to  all  the  political  but  also  to  the 
moral  virtues ;  the  Constitution  attributes  nothing  to  fam- 
ily, nothing  to  riches,  nothing  to  reflected  merit.  He  who 
was  born  a  beggar  frequently  arrives  at  a  condition  in 
which  he  might  retort  on  a  nobleman,  "  My  ancestors  are  a 
disgrace  to  me ;  you  are  a  disgrace  to  your  ancestors." 
Hence  with  the  poorest,  love  of  the  Constitution  becomes  a 
passion,  and  mingles  with  their  sentiments  and  actions, 
mingles  with  their  religion,  mingles  with  their  life.  In 
England,  on  the  other  hand,  the  most  felicitous  and  gen- 
erous feelings  of  which  man  is  capable  are  cautiously  cher- 
ished, or  blighted  in  youth.  It  is  justly  considered  in  the 
United  States  that  all  those  honors  and  riches  which  de- 
scend to  a  great  man's  posterity,  would  be  a  direct  injury 
to  the  greatest  men  in  the  republic.  A  great  man  founds 
a  new  family  ;  but  his  posterity,  from  age  to  age,  do  not 
inherit  the  rights  of  the  great  ancestor;  they  cannot  do 
this  unless  they  inherit  his  ability.  They  usurp  the  natural 
rights  of  some  other  man  equally  great1  with  the  founder 
of  the  family,  but  who  has  been  necessarily  excluded  by  rea- 
son of  hereditary  succession  because  rewards  and  honors  in 
every  State  must  be  restricted  within  certain  bounds.  It  is 
not  for  me  to  determine  who,  but  some  one  of  the  nobility 
in  England  possesses  the  natural  rights  of  Home  Tooke. 
and  some  other  nobleman  possesses  those  of  William 
Windham.9 

1  If  every  century  produces  an  eqnal  number  of  great  men.  this  is  precisely 
true. 

•  If  natural  ability  be  frequently  perverted  in  England,  it  is  the  fault  of 
the  Constitution.    A   great  plebeian   must  either  be  hanged,  pensioned,  or 


246         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

I  will  illustrate  :  If  the  first  characters  in  the  United 
States  should  he  ennobled,  the  offices  of  honor  and  emolu- 
ment would  naturally  How  from  them  to  their  heirs.  In 
cases  of  emergency,  indeed,  if  the  descendants  were  not 
equal  to  great  occasions,  necessity  would  compel  the  gov- 
ernment to  summon  to  its  aid  the  plebeian  great.  Hence  in 
England  you  find  a  Chatham,  a  Hardwicke,  a  Smith,  and  a 
Duncan.  Nobiliores  viri  factis  quam  gencrc.  If  the  re- 
mote relatives  of  the  nobility  had  been  barely  competent, 
these  great  men  would  have  sunk  under  the  ascendency  of 
those  who  so  frequently  rise  like  air  balloons,  and  rise 
pretty  much  on  the  same  principle,  —  for  want  of  weight. 
Now,  if  the  heirs  of  this  nobility  were  permitted  to  repre- 
sent their  great  ancestors,  long  before  they  had  arrived  at 
the  age  of  thirty  years  there  would  be  an  equal  number  of 
men  great  as  the  ancestors  of  these  heirs,  of  most  of  whom 
it  might  well  be  said  that  it  would  have  been  better  both 
for  themselves  and  society  if  they  had  been  born  idiots. 
Hence  every  noble  sentiment  of  which  plebeians  are  suscep- 
tible would  be  early  suppressed,  or,  if  indulged,  would  be 
more  likely  to  lead  to  disgrace  than  to  usefulness.  A  citi- 
zen of  the  United  States  has  nothing  to  fear  from  this  usur- 
pation ;  on  the  contrary,  the  reflection  that  his  children 
start  in  the  race  of  life  at  the  same  moment  with  their  con- 
temporaries, and  the  assurance  that  their  merits  will  not 
be  overshadowed  and  blasted  by  hereditary  usurpation  open 
to  each  citizen  new  resources,  and  insure  the  parental  du- 
ties ;  hence,  the  child  is  educated  to  love  that  Constitution 
titled.  Tooke  nearly  underwent  the  former  fate  :  Windham,  more  fortunate, 
was  made  Secretary  at  War. 

I  embrace  this  opportunity  of  offering  my  esteem  to  one  of  the  greatest, 
wisest,  best,  and  most  injured  men  in  England.  Home  Tooke  has  ever 
labored  under  a  most  disgraceful  and  multiform  oppression,  which  has  fre- 
quently ended  in  the  basest  exertions  of  his  enemies.  Unfortunate  man  ! 
had  destiny  cast  your  lot  on  onr  shores,  you  would  have  been  revered  while 
living,  as  much  as  you  yet  will  be  when  dead. 


LETTERS  FROM  LOXDOX.  247 

under  which  his  youth  is  passed ;  and  hence  the  strength  of 
our  government  consists  in  that  alone  which  is  competent 
to  its  destruction. 

Whatever  may  he  the  power  of  a  State,  however  prompt 
the  executive  and  however  inexhaustible  the  treasury  even, 
without  the  affections  of  the  people  all  is  false,  all  hollow, 
all  artificial.  In  vain  docs  the  government  nail  up  its 
authority  on  every  post,  if  it  is  not  cherished  in  the  hearts 
of  the  people.  In  vain  will  a  few  purchased  voices  cry, 
Long  live  King  Richard !  In  one  night  Pelopidas  over- 
turned a  tyranny.  In  the  height  of  his  power  Dionysius 
found  himself  deserted  in  Syracuse.  "  Huic  tantae  tem- 
pestati  'iiuim  se  consules  obtulissent,  facile  experti  sunt, 
parum  tntam  majestatem  sine  virions  esse." 

Let  us  suppose  a  case.  If  a  revolution  should  be  at- 
tempted in  the  United  States,  who  would  be  the  actors,  to 
whom  would  they  apply,  and  what  method  would  they 
adopt?  Would  they,  like  Catiline,1  address  the  people: 
'•  Nobis  rcliquere  pericula,  repulsas,  judicia,  egestatem. 
Qua;  quousque  tandem  patiemini,  fortissimi  viri  ?  Xonnc 
emori  .  .  .  praestat,  quam  vitam  miscram  atque  inhonestam, 
.  .  .  per  dedecus  amittere  ?  .  .  .  Etenim  quia  mortalium, 
cui  virile  ingenium,  tolerare  potest,  illis  divitias  superare, 
quas  profundant  in  extruendo  mari  et  montibus  cocequan- 
dis,  nobis  rem  familiarem  etiam  ad  necessaria  deesse  ?  illos 
binaa  ant  amplius  domos  continuare,  nobis  larem  famili- 
arem nusquam  ullum  esse"  ?  Or  would  they  apply  to  the 
rich,  ami  attempt  to  weaken  their  confidence  by  explain- 
ing the  little  consideration  which  the  Constitution  attaches 
to  wealth  as  due  to  an  odious  spirit  of  equality  which  be- 
reaves the  pride  of  affluence  of  half  its  importance  ;  or, 
more  successfully,  would  they  promise  future  grandeur, 
the  charms  of  aristocracy,  and  the  self-complacency  of 
1  Sallust.  Catilina,  xx 


248  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

hereditary  succession?  What  a  singular  paradox!  The 
conspirators  would  cautiously  avoid  every  man,  that  is,  the 
great  body  of  the  people,  who  earn  their  bread  by  per- 
sonal industry,  and  would  fly  from  all  those  who  enjoy  a 
golden  competency.  Singular  paradox  !  The  rich  alone 
would  be  actors  in  the  revolution,  and  the  poor  '  would  be 
the  supporters  of  government !  On  one  side  you  would 
sec  only  those  whose  ambition  had  overstepped  the  proper 
bounds,  and  whose  riches  had  only  added  to  their  restless- 
ness ;  on  the  other,  the  great  mass  of  the  citizens,  know- 
ing that  a  revolution  would  not  benefit  them,  but  terminate 
in  aristocracy,  would  support  the  Constitution  as  the  grand 
pillar  of  their  own  consequence.  Hence  the  Constitution 
is  as  strong  as  natural  affection,  and  as  durable  as  self- 
interest.  It  destroys  some  of  the  worst  and  enlists  in  its 
support  some  of  the  best  passions  of  which  human  nature 
is  susceptible.  It  lops  off  the  efficient  cause  of  revolution, 
and  impels  to  patriotism.  It  is  founded  in  popular  feeling, 
and  is  considered  by  the  people  as  a  part  of  their  property, 
as  a  part  of  their  blood,  as  a  part  of  their  very  life  ;  and 
hence  the  strength  of  tbis  Constitution  consists  in  that 
alone  which  is  competent  to  its  destruction. 

You  are  now  prepared,  I  believe,  for  the  following 
maxim  :  "  A  revolution  cannot  happen  until  it  ought  to 
happen."  This  maxim  is  founded  in  human  feeling,  and 
rests  on  the  broad  basis  of  experience.  A  people  blessed 
with  a  good  government  arc  themselves  the  surest  pledges 
of  its  support.  Need  I  appeal  to  Sparta,  Athens,  Rome, 
confessedly  the  best  and  most  durable  governments  of  an- 
tiquity ?  The  long  continuance  of  despotic  power  proves 
nothing;  where  the  will  of  the  prince  governs,  his  violent 

1  Rich  and  poor  are  convertible  terms;  therefore  in  every  country  there 
will  be  rich  and  poor.  But  poverty,  in  the  European  meaning  of  the  word, 
does  not  find  a  place  in  the  United  States. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  249 

death  begets  a  revolution,  although  his  successor  be 
equally  absolute.  Thus  by  consulting  history,  absolute 
monarchies  will  be  found  to  have  undergone  more  frequent 
revolutions  than  republics.  Hence  governments  have  ever 
been  found  to  be  weak  in  the  degree  they  have  been  abso- 
lute. A  great  prince,  indeed,  may  during  his  life  give  the 
impression  of  durability  to  his  rule ;  but  his  successor 
usually  proves  the  inanity  of  power  without  personal  char- 
acter. At  this  moment  I  should  be  obliged  to  consult 
history  to  know  who  were  the  successors  of  Alexander, 
Charlemagne,  or  Alfred  the  Great. 

In  no  instance  recorded  in  history  have  the  people 
hazarded  a  revolution  prematurely  :  they  have  indeed  at- 
tempted many  too  late.  It  is  characteristic  of  every  body 
of  men  in  subjection  to  suffer  long  before  they  appeal  to 
the  last  resort.  The  enterprise  demands  such  an  effort, 
such  vigor,  such  a  degree  of  secrecy  and  unity  of  action 
that  most  people  are  already  slaves  before  they  confess  it 
to  one  another.  They  hear  the  clanking  of  other  men's 
chains  before  they  seem  to  feel  the  weight  of  their  own. 
Yet  it  is  a  favorite  declamation  with  the  pupils  of  that 
school  which  Mr.  Burke  opened  in  prospect  of  a  lordship, 
that  there  is  no  political  monster  but  the  people  —  no 
tyrant  but  the  multitude. 

Now,  if  a  revolution  cannot  happen  until  it  ought  to 
happen,  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  is  pre-emi- 
nent in  strength  over  all  other  forms  of  government. 
There  are  not  sufficient  materials  wherewith  to  work  a 
revolution.  It  is  not  in  human  extravagance  to  act  with- 
out an  object  of  action ;  and  happily  the  most  dangerous 
passions  are  rendered  inefficient  or  subservient.  Ambition, 
indeed,  may  soar  to  the  empyrean,  but  unless  its  object  be 
heavenly  it  must  descend  to  prey  on  its  own  carcass.  The 
Federal  Constitution  has  not  only  expelled  every  humor 


250  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

which  might  injure  the  habit,  but  has  lopped  off  every  ex- 
crescence which  might  fret  the  body.  Nor  is  this  all;  its 
regenerative  spirit,  operating  at  short  intervals,  preserves 
its  youth  and  gives  it  immortal  vigor,  so  that  the  principle 
of  revolution  is  a  part  of  the  system. 

The  productive  causes  of  revolution  are  restriction  and 
exclusion  on  the  one  part,  and  usurpation  on  the  other. 
In  the  latter  particular  our  Constitution  has  nothing  to 
fear ;  the  first  step  of  usurpation  is  the  last ;  nor  has  the 
Constitution  more  to  fear  from  restriction  and  exclusion. 
It  remained  for  the  people  of  the  United  States  to  ex- 
hibit the  happiest  sight  which  philosophy  ever  witnessed. 
The  extremities  of  all  the  religions  in  the  world  might 
meet  in  a  circle.  "  Incredibile  memoratu  est  quam  facile 
coalucrint." J  Hence  unlimited  toleration,  incapacitated 
by  no  political  disability  and  no  invidious  exclusion,  not 
only  teaches  the  citizen  to  respect  other  men's  opinions  or 
to  regard  them  with  indifference,  but  strengthens  the  gov- 
ernment by  lopping  off  one  principal  exciting  cause  of 
revolution.  Should  the  Constitution  of  England  be  threat- 
ened, the  Dissenters,  to  say  the  least,  would  either  sit  with 
their  arms  folded  as  if  in  triumph,  or  in  a  sort  of  anxious 
indifference. 

It  is  the  property  of  most  governments  to  grow  strong 
by  usurping  the  rights  of  the  people ;  and  when  the  ex- 
ecutive, like  the  northern  whirlpool  seizes  and  swallows  up 
everything  within  its  reach,  then  the  government  lays 
claim  to  dignity  and  energy ;  but  this  strength  is  as  base- 
less as  an  inverted  pyramid,  or  is  like  the  water-spout, 
wdiich,  in  the  moment  of  its  greatest  strength  and  tower- 
ing pride,  finds  its  level  with  the  ocean.  In  a  considerable 
degree  the  government  of  England  partakes  of  the  nature 
of  the  northern  whirlpool,  in  that  it  has  seized  and  swal- 

1  Sallust.  Catiliim,  vi. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         251 

lowed  up  the  rights  of  the  Dissenters,  and  moreover  has 
weakened  itself  in  proportion  to  their  strength.  It  is  like 
the  inverted  pyramid  in  that  its  chief  strength,  built 
originally  on  the  canon  law,  partially  ameliorated,  and  on 
the  feudal  system,  partially  corrected,  flows  from  the  head 
and  not  from  the  heart  of  the  social  compact.  It  is  like 
the  water-spout,  in  that  its  abuses,  for  want  of  an  effectual 
regenerative  principle,  are  in  danger  of  accumulating  until 
they  rise  to  that  pitch  of  enormity  which  naturally  cures 
itself. 

On  the  contrary,  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
is  founded  on  natural  strength,  on  popular  right,  on 
,  popular  affection,  and  may  be  amended  and  even  newly 
modelled  without  danger  of  a  revolution.  Such  a  govern- 
ment will  probably  possess  all  possible  good  with  least 
possible  evil. 

In  short,  a  monarch,  a  hereditary  nobility,  an  estab- 
lished church,  are  supposed  here  to  be  the  foundation  of 
government.  In  the  United  States  they  are  considered  as 
pompous  titles,  imposing  names,  usurpations ;  nay,  more, 
it  is  held  that  legitimate  government  cannot  exist  under 
them.  Hence  it  will  be  found  a  more  difficult  enterprise 
to  introduce  than  to  overturn  such  a  system.  Most  other 
governments  originated  in  slavery ;  ours  originated  in 
freedom.  In  the  former  case  the  weak  have  to  contend 
against  the  strong,  and  every  unsuccessful  effort  renders 
the  weak  still  weaker,  the  strong  still  stronger  ;  and  unless 
the  spirit  of  freedom  should  inspire  the  people,  or  the 
tyranny  should  be  intolerable  even  to  slaves,  there  is  no 
remedy.  In  the  latter  case  the  conflict  is  only  defensive  ; 
guard  the  sacred  fire  and  freedom  must  be  co-existent 
with  the  principle. 

Were  the  United  States  like  ancient  Carthage,  or  like 
England  or  Holland,  we  should  soon  look  with  regret  on 


252  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

what  we  once  were  ;  but  being  an  agricultural  rather  than 
a  commercial  people,  wc  shall  be  enabled,  in  spite  of  com- 
mercial aristocracy,  to  preserve  .the  Constitution  in  its 
most  wholesome  state.  The  agricultural  will  happily 
swallow  up  the  commercial  influence ;  and  even  if  com- 
merce should  ruin  both  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  shores, 
there  will  still  be  ample  space  between  for  liberty  to  range 
in.  Poverty,  misery,  and  slavery,  when  they  find  a  resi- 
dence in  the  United  States,  will  first  seat  themselves  in 
the  capitals  of  the  Atlantic,  and  may  advance  a  little  way 
into  the  interior,  but  in  vain  will  they  endeavor  to  tres- 
pass on  the  freeholders.  The  wings  of  our  eagle,  sitting 
on  the  great  range  of  mountains,  if  not  large  enough  to 
cover  both  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  will  still  shield  the 
freeborn,  brave,  and  hardy  sons  of  the  soil. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XXVII. 


London,  May  15. 
Imagine  to  yourself  a  man  of  short  stature,  who  has 
just  passed  the  prime  of  life ;  whose  broad  high  forehead 
is  inclined  to  baldness,  but  whose  ruddy,  thoughtful,  yet 
open  countenance  shows  the  temperature  both  of  health 
and  philosophy ;  of  manners  remarkably  mild,  unassum- 
ing, rather  reserved  ;  in  conversation  cautious,  argumenta- 
tive, frequently  doubting,  yet  modestly  courting  reply,  more 
from  a  desire  of  truth  than  a  love  of  contending;  in  his 
family  affectionate,  cordial,  accommodating  ;  to  his  friends 
confidential,  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  ;  to  his  enemies 
—  you  would  never  know  from  Mr.  Godwin  that  he  had 
an  enemy. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  253 

Mr.  Godwin  lives  at  Somerton,  about  three  miles  from 
London.  His  house  is  neat,  but  in  all  respects  unpre- 
tentious ;  it  is  called  a  cottage.  His  study  is  small,  and 
looks  out  upon  the  country  ;  his  library  is  not  large,  yet 
sufficient  for  a  man  who  depends  more  on  his  own  re- 
sources than  on  the  labors  of  others.  The  portrait  of 
Mary,  painted  by  Northcote,  hangs  over  the  fireplace. 
This  rendered  the  study  one  of  the  most  interesting  places 
I  ever  visited.  Though  I  have  frequently  been  in  the  room, 
I  have  ventured  only  to  look  at  the  portrait.  Mr.  Godwin 
is  since  married  to  a  charming  woman  who  seems  devoted 
to  domestic  happiness.  At  present  he  is  occupied  with  his 
"  Geoffrey  Chaucer,"  a  work  of  which  great  expectations 
are  entertained. 

A  billet  received  from  Mr.  Godwin  this  morning,  in- 
formed me  that  Mr.  Holcroft  and  Dr.  Wolcott  would  dine 
there  to-day. 

Mr.  Holcroft,  though  nearly  sixty,  has  suffered  nothing 
from  years,  laborious  mental  exertion,  or  persecution.  He 
has  all  the  activity  and  vivacity  of  youth.  Just  returned 
from  the  Continent,  whither  he  had  banished  himself  in 
compliance  with  the  wishes  of  the  English  government,  he 
has  brought  back  with  him  not  the  least  resentment.  Per- 
secution, instead  of  imbittering  his  disposition,  has  had 
the  effect  which  it  has  on  all  good  men.  A  villain  will 
always  hate  mankind  in  proportion  to  his  knowledge  of 
the  world ;  a  good  man,  on  the  contrary,  will  increase  in 
philanthropy. 

Literature  is  not  a  little  honored  when  one  of  her  vota- 
ries, leaving  a  mechanical  employment  at  a  period  of  life 
when  habits  are  usually  fixed,  has  employed  his  pen  suc- 
cessfully, and  realized  a  handsome  support.  Still  more 
charming  is  it  to  see  the  votaries  of  literature  giving  proofs 
of  the  strongest  friendship.    Holcroft  and  Godwin  are  firm 


264         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

friends.  A  striking  likeness  of  the  former,  also  by  North- 
cote,  is  in  the  dining-room. 

In  appearance,  Dr.  Wolcott  is  a  genuine  John  Bull,  and 
until  lie  opens  his  mouth  you  would  little  suspect  his  rela- 
tionship to  the  poet  of  Thebes.  lie  is  a  portly  man.  rather 
unwieldy,  and,  I  believe,  is  fond  of  a  sedentary  life.  He  is 
hastening  to  old  age,  and  seems  disposed  to  make  the  most 
of  life.  There  is  little  similarity  of  character  between 
Wolcott  and  Godwin.  They  are  both  constant  in  mental 
exertion  ;  but  the  one  prefers  to  sit  on  a  silver  cloud  and  be 
wafted  through  the  four  quarters  of  the  world,  looking 
down  on  all  the  varieties  of  Nature  and  the  follies  of  man. 
The  other,  possessed  of  the  nicest  moral  feelings,  loves  to 
envelop  himself  in  darkness  and  abstraction,  in  order  to 
contemplate  whatever  is  just,  fit,  or  useful.  The. one,  laugh- 
ing, dressed  in  the  gayety  of  spring,  enters  society  with  the 
pruning-hook ;  the  other,  more  serious,  labors  with  the 
ploughshare.  Holcroft,  who,  owing  to  a  defective  educa- 
tion, never  began  to  think  until  his  mental  powers  had 
come  to  maturity,  embarrassed  by  no  system  follows  the 
dictates  of  his  own  mind,  and  if  he  is  sometimes  erroneous, 
the  error  is  all  his  own ;  it  is  never  a  borrowed  error. 
Hence  his  conversation,  embellished  by  the  variety  of  life 
which  he  has  seen,  is  rendered  rich,  brilliant,  original,  and 
impressive. 

It  is  singular,  but  I  believe  old  age  is  more  disposed  to 
egotism  and  more  open  to  flattery  than  youth.  I  can  ac- 
count for  it  only  from  a  fondness  for  the  past  and  a  certain 
kind  of  jealousy  which  are  natural  to  old  age.  However 
this  may  be,  a  man  like  Wolcott,  and  a  poet  too,  whose 
society  has  been  courted  as  much  as  his  works  have  been 
read,  will  naturally  in  the  company  of  friends  frequently 
find  in  himself  a  subject  for  conversation ;  nor  is  this  in 
the  least  displeasing.    They  are  always  the  greatest  egotists 


LETTERS   FROM   LONDON".  255 

who  are  most  offended  with  the  egotism  of  others.  Wol- 
cott  seemed  delighted  with  the  following  anecdote  respect- 
ing certain  of  his  works.  He  said  that  the  ministry  had  it 
in  contemplation  to  prosecute  him  for  a  libel :  and  when 
the  good  polio;  of  the  prosecution  was  questioned,  the  gra- 
cious Lord  Thurlow,  to  whom  Wolcott  was  under  great  ob- 
ligation, rose  and  asked  his  fellows  whether  they  were  sure 
a  jury  would  condemn  the  man ;  and  on  the  surmise  of  a 
mere  doubt,  Thurlow  said :  "  Then  it  is  not  expedient  to 
prosecute." 

1  was  struck  with  surprise  and  horror  when  Mr.  Godwin 
informed  me  that  the  ministry  once  had  it  on  the  carpet  to 
prosecute  the  "  Political  Justice."  I  took  occasion  on  this 
to  ask  him  how  long  before  he  was  known  to  the  world  he 
had  devoted  himself  to  literature.  He  replied :  "  It  was 
ten  years  before  I  was  known  as  an  author."  This  ought 
to  inspire  the  persevering  with  new  ardor. 

Wolcott,  like  most  men  of  genius,  has  a  contempt  for 
-'■liolars,  who,  walking  on  the  stilts  of  pedantry,  im- 
agine themselves  a  head  taller  than  other  folk.  The  talents 
of  a  certain  famous  man  being  questioned,  Wolcott  re- 
marked that  he  was  not  a  man  of  genius,  but  a  man  of 
great  capacity.  He  also  said  that  if  we  would  attend  to 
him  he  would  distinguish  between  the  learned  man,  the 
man  of  capacity,  and  the  man  of  genius.  "  Here,"  said  he, 
"  we  will  suppose  a  number  of  coins  —  ducats,  pistoles, 
dollars,  guineas  —  on  this  table.  The  learned  man.  after 
thumbing  his  dictionaries  for  half  an  hour,  will  be  able  to 
tell  you  the  names  of  these  coins,  in  all  languages.  The 
man  of  capacity  will  go  further,  and  tell  you  the  value 
of  each  coin  and  the  amount  of  the  whole  together,  with 
everything  relative  to  their  use,  difference  of  exchange, 
and  origin.  But  who  invented  these  coins  ?  The  man  of 
genius." 


256  LETTERS    FROM    LONDON'. 

This  gave  general  satisfaction.  However,  it  was  replied, 
ami  1  thought  very  justly,  that  unless  the  man  of  genius 
should  acquire  capacity,  his  genius  without  capacity  would 
be  less  useful  than  capacity  without  genius.  For,  the  ex- 
ertion of  genius  is  rare.  God  does  not  every  day  create  a 
world :  and  although  genius  may  claim  a  higher  preroga- 
tive than  capacity  can  claim,  they  are  mutually  indebted. 
If  genius  gives  employment  to  capacity,  not  infrequently 
capacity  gives  direction  and  results  to  genius. 

Adieu. 


LETTER  XXVIII. 


London,  May  24. 

I  am  conscious  how  much  I  hazard  in  the  present  letter  ; 
but  the  preceding  notices  on  the  English  character  will 
dispose  you  to  consider  this  letter  a  commentary,  rather 
than  a  dictate  of  my  own  authority. 

Those  various  prerogatives  which  the  English  claim  to 
possess  exclusively  might  induce  a  stranger  to  suppose 
that  they  would  fling  themselves  back  in  their  easy-chairs 
and  either  deride  or  despise  all  those  who  are  not  self- 
dependent,  self-supported,  and  regardless  of  the  opinions 
of  everybody  else.  Yet  I  am  inclined  to  believe  these 
self-poised  characters  sacrifice  more  to  their  foolish  pas- 
sions than  any  other  people.  This  can  be  illustrated  only 
by  instances  taken  from  real  life. 

It  is  obvious  that  in  proportion  as  a  country  is  free,  its 
people  will  display  a  variety  of  passions  ;  while  the  ease 
and  safety  with  which  the  passions  may  be  indulged  will 
lead  many  to  preposterous  lengths ;  and  while  the  man  is 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  257 

raining  himself  his  obstinacy  of  perseverance  will  increase 
to  the  last ;  the  same  spirit  which  first  incited,  propels  him 
forward.  He  will  esteem  it  more  honorable  to  flounder  in 
desperation  than  to  stop  midway  in  his  career.  "  Maluit 
patrati,  quam  incepti  facinoris  reus,  esse." 1  His  passion 
acts  in  a  circle,  finds  no  end,  but  still  progresses  in  degrees. 
The  poor,  in  proportion  to  their  means,  will  be  in  danger 
of  low  pleasures,  or,  what  is  not  less  ruinous,  they  will 
sacrifice  themselves  to  a  hopeless  emulation. 

I  think  it  necessary  to  premise  this,  in  order  to  preserve 
a  degree  of  verisimilitude  among  so  many  inconsistent 
traits  as  are  discoverable  among  the  English. 

I  have  frequently  thought  that  if  such  a  man  as  Fabricius 
should  visit  England,  he  would  leave  the  people  with  sen- 
timents little  to  their  honor.  He  would  discover  that 
poverty  was  considered  not  only  the  greatest  evil,  but  a 
species  of  crime.  He  would  perceive  a  disposition  to  ex- 
change fame,  happiness,  even  principle,  for  worldly  appear- 
ance and  the  inglorious  reputation  of  riches ;  nay  more, 
that  the  poor  enjoyed  a  transient  happiness  in  being 
thought  affluent. 

Zimmerman,  you  know,  in  speaking  of  the  different 
observations  which  different  peoples  make  on  strangers, 
dues  the  English  the  superior  honor  to  attribute  to  them 
this  liberal  characteristic  :  "  What  sort  of  a  man  is  that  ?  " 
The  praise  which  this  supposes  may,  for  aught  I  know,  be 
comparatively  just ;  but  certain  it  is,  if  the  English  ever 
do  respect  a  poor  man,  it  must  be  under  a  singular  circum- 
stance ;  for  they  cease  to  respect  themselves  only  in  the 
degree  they  approach  poverty  ;  and  such  a  horror  have 
they  of  the  mere  suspicion  of  indigence  that  they  become 
prodigal  in  counterfeiting  affluence,  and  insure  future 
through  fear  of  present  distress.     The  coward  who  killed 

1  Tacitus. 
17 


258  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

himself  lest  he  should  be  killed  by  the  enemy  was  not 
more  ridiculous. 

The  truth  is,  and  I  have  noticed  it  before,  the  English 
attribute  to  themselves  a  wonderful  degree  of  consequence : 
they  will  naturally  do  this  in  comparing  themselves  with 
the  slaves  of  Europe.  Unfortunately  they  appreciate  the 
fact  that  unless  they  possess  the  talents  of  a  Burke  or  a 
Sheridan,  personal  worth  commands  no  respect  without  a 
certain  style  of  appearance  ;  and  with  all  classes,  except 
that  which  is  abandoned  to  hopeless  wretchedness,  this 
necessary  appearance  is  rated  far  above  ability.  Hence  it 
may  easily  be  credited  that  the  English  are  generally  ex- 
travagant, frequently  desperate,  and  always  unhappy  ;  for 
no  people  descend  to  misfortune  with  less  dignity  than 
the  English.  Tbe  fearful  calm  which  precedes  despair 
or  the  headlong  impetuosity  of  Niagara,  seizes  the  un- 
happy Englishman.  His  native  frankness  forbids  him  to 
suppress  his  feelings ;  from  far  you  hear  the  brewing 
storm. 

If  the  English  possessed  the  real  spirit  of  independence 
they  might  still  retain  all  their  pride,  but  they  would  mani- 
fest it  in  a  very  different  manner.  Indeed,  they  sometimes 
assert  their  independent  spirit  in  devoting  themselves  to 
mad  pursuits,  but,  whether  governed  by  whim  or  madness, 
they  would  feel  themselves  disgraced  if  they  indulged  their 
caprice  or  madness  at  less  expense  than  they  could  their 
sober  senses.  He  who  is  fantastic  is  easily  tolerated ;  but 
if  he  is  singular  merely  to  save  expense,  he  instantly  be- 
comes contemptible. 

Tbis  unhallowed  attachment  to  wealth  docs  not  spring 
from  the  miser-passion  of  possessing  property,  but  rather 
from  a  consciousness  that  its  dissipation  affords  the  surest 
means  of  gratification.  The  English  are  not  remarkable 
for  being  "  alieni  appetcntes,"  but  only  for  being  "  profusi 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  259 

suorum  ;  "  yet  the  "  profusi  suoruin  "  are  nearly  related  to 
the  "  alicni  appeteutes." 

If  you  descend  to  real  life  you  will  find  this  same  spirit 
operating  through  all  the  ranks  of  society.  In  presence 
of  this  influence,  moral  fitness,  natural  justice,  and  social 
feeling  are  all  annihilated.  From  the  august  tribunal  of 
the  Lord  Chief-Justice  down  to  a  petty  Court  of  Requests, 
from  the  Secretary  of  State  to  his  humblest  retainer,  or 
from  the  magnificent  merchant  down  to  a  haberdasher  of 
small  wares,  —  all,  all  are  in  counteraction  to  the  proud 
principles  of  their  Constitution. 

No  people  are  more  ready  at  the  theatre  to  applaud  the 
fine  sentiment,  "  Who  steals  my  purse,  steals  trash."  This 
sentiment  still  passes  in  a  court  of  honor,  and  it  passes  in 
the  theatre.  When  retired  from  real  life,  the  people  for- 
get themselves ;  but  I  have  never  heard  the  lines  quoted  at 
Guildhall,  nor  at  Westminster.  The  filching  of  a  good 
name  and  the  stealing  of  a  purse  would  conduct  to  very 
different  tribunals ;  and  the  damaging  of  another  to  the 
amount  of  a  sixpence  in  purse  and  a  sixpence  in  reputation 
would  terminate  in  very  different  consequences.  The  sen- 
timent of  Shylock  is  more  just :  "  If  you  spare  my  life, 
spare  my  property,  for  that  is  life." 

In  general,  the  spirit  of  a  nation  is  shown  in  the  spirit 
of  its  laws ;  but  England  is  an  exception.  The  English 
laws  ignore  all  distinction  in  the  several  gradations  of 
crime.  This  would  puzzle  a  foreigner  ignorant  of  the 
English  character.  He  would  either  pronounce  the  Eng- 
lish to  be  more  attached  to  property  than  to  life  or  repu- 
tation, or  conclude  that  they  are  a  nation  of  thieves.  At 
the  Old  Bailey  I  saw  a  wretch  capitally  convicted  for  steal- 
ing a  ragged  pocket-handkerchief,  while  the  humane  judge, 
feeling  the  hardship  of  the  case,  asked  the  prosecutor  this 
question  :  "  Were  you  in  the  least  degree  sensible  of  miss- 


260  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

ing  it  at  the  time,  or  immediately  after  the  time ;  for  if 
you  felt  it  go  from  your  pocket,  the  felony  was  not  capital." 
Sometimes  the  jury,  to  save  a  man  from  the  gallows,  will 
generously  perjure  themselves.  At  the  Old  Bailey,  they 
arc  in  the  frequent  habit  of  reckoning  two  for  one,  except 
when  specie  is  stolen  ;  then  they  are  obliged  to  value  two 
pounds  at  forty  shillings ;  though  I  have  heard  the  judge 
condole  with  the  jury  because  there  was  no  system  of  arith- 
metic which  would  warrant  their  computing  three  guineas 
at  one  pound  nineteen  shillings. 

I  am  not  sure  if  it  be  candid  to  attribute  the  unequal 
laws  of  the  English  to  their  intemperate  regard  for  prop- 
erty ;  though  I  have  labored  in  vain  to  find  a  less  dishonor- 
able reason.  Commercial  people,  we  all  know,  will,  as  much 
as  they  can,  render  law  offensive  to  others  and  defensive  to 
themselves.  The  same  spirit  seems  to  run  through  the 
whole  system  of  English  law,  whether  relative  to  commerce 
or  to  the  landed  interest.  If  you  ask  the  merchant,  "  What 
do  you  consider  the  greatest  crime  ?  "  he  might  possibly  say 
murder,  but  he  would  mean  forgery  ;  on  the  other  hand, 
should  you  ask  the  country  squire  the  same  question,  he 
too  might  possibly  say  murder,  but  he  would  mean  the 
murder  of  one  of  his  hares. 

In  this  country,  few  crimes  arc  thought  to  be  highly 
criminal  so  long  as  property  is  secure.  One  would  sup- 
pose that  the  forcible  amputation  of  a  man's  ears  or  nose 
was  a  greater  crime  than  the  stealing  of  one  of  his  sheep; 
but  the  fact  is,  a  man's  cars  and  nose  are  not  essential 
members,  nor  subjects  of  trade ;  whereas,  if  a  man's  ears 
or  nose  were  soused,  like  a  hog's  feet  and  ears,  the  law  in 
this  respect  would  change  from  a  civil  process  to  a  felony. 
If  you  steal  the  only  child  of  a  fond  parent,  the  law  is 
silent :  but  if  you  steal  the  child's  clothes  you  commit  a 
felony.     I  was  present  at  a  trial  of  this  sort,  on  which  the 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  261 

prisoner  was  acquitted,  it  not  appearing  sufficiently  evident 
that  he  stole  the  child  with  a  view  to  steal  the  clothes. 

The  same  spirit  influences  the  administration  of  public 
affairs.  The  subject  is  invidious,  yet  sufficiently  noto- 
rious. Public  offices  are  not  sold  at  vendue,  but  it  is  well 
known  they  may  be  purchased.  You  frequently  see  in  the 
most  celebrated  newspapers  advertisements  offering  cer- 
tain sums  "  to  any  lady  or  gentleman  who  can  command 
sufficient  parliamentary  interest  to  procure  the  writer  a 
public  office  with  a  specified  salary" — the  utmost  secrecy 
being  promised !  I  confess  I  had  so  much  simplicity, 
when  I  first  saw  such  an  advertisement,  that  I  thought  it 
an  excellent  joke.  I  am  now  fully  persuaded  that  public 
offices  may  be  purchased,  if  you  know  where  to  apply. 
Mr.  Addington  is  the  last  man  to  whom  I  would  recom- 
mend a  suitor.     He  would  certainly  suffer  disappointment. 

The  following  singular  circumstance  passed  under  my 
own  observation.  An  honest  fellow  in  the  west  of  Eng- 
land, with  more  money  than  correct  knowledge  of  the 
world,  had  doubtless  heard  that  public  offices  as  well  as 
loans  and  state  lotteries  were  sold  in  London.  A  valuable 
sinecure  in  his  neighborhood  becoming  vacant,  he  wished 
to  purchase  it  for  his  son.  In  full  expectation  of  getting 
the  office,  he  applied  to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
promising  him  two  thousand  pounds.  The  sinlple  man 
had  no  idea  of  bribing  the  Minister  of  State,  and  was  not 
a  little  frightened  when  told  his  proceeding  was  not  ex- 
actly regular.  Mr.  Addington  prosecuted  the  man  for  an 
attempt  at  bribery,  and  he  was  convicted ;  but  the  judges, 
much  to  their  honor,  feeling  the  merit  of  the  case,  imposed 
the  small  fine  of  one  hundred  pounds.  They  were  obliged 
to  convict  the  man,  otherwise  Mr.  Addington  must  have 
paid  the  costs. 

In  this  instance  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  did  not 


2G2  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

show  himself  the  great  man.  Had  there  never  been  an 
office  sold  in  England,  public  virtue  might  have  exacted 
this  from  Mr.  Addington  ;  but  England  is  not  early  Rome, 
though  Mr.  Addington  may  be  Cato  the  Censor.  It  would 
have  been  more  magnanimous  in  the  Chancellor  to  have 
written  back  a  gentle  reprimand,  attributing  the  man's 
offers  to  ignorance.  This  prosecution  was  as  ill-timed  as 
a  similar  one  would  have  been  at  that  period  of  Rome 
when  Jugurtha,  with  a  certain  famous  exclamation,  de- 
parted from  the  city. 

In  common  life  so  much  is  attributed  to  the  reputation 
of  riches  that  you  meet  with  few  men  who  would  not  be 
happy  to  pass  themselves  off  as  worth  ten  thousand  pounds. 
This  shows  itself  in  the  style  of  appearance  and  manners 
of  the  people.  Understand  me  ;  I  do  not  impute  this  so 
much  to  a  passion  for  property  as  to  a  fondness  for  appear- 
ance. To  this  ambition  the  old  men  are  an  exception  ; 
they  are  the  same  in  all  countries.  No  wonder  if  he  who 
has  outlived  the  world  and  all  his  friends  believes  nothing 
in  this  life  is  so  substantial  as  money  and  so  durable  as 
real  estate.  No  wonder  that  when  he  can  lean  no  longer 
on  this  world,  and  when  society  conspires  to  cast  him  off, 
he  considers  his  bag  of  gold  his  softest  pillow. 

The  first  lodgings  for  which  I  incpiired  in  London  were 
shown  me  by  a  decent-looking  man.  I  had  scarcely  entered 
the  apartments  when  he  told  me  he  was  independent  and 
not  in  the  habit  of  letting  lodgings,  but  that  a  part  of  his 
family  was  in  the  country. 

I  was  chatting  lately  with  a  lady  newly  married,  who 
excused  herself  for  a  few  minuses.  On  her  return  I  ob- 
served that  she  was  more  richly  dressed.  I  bantered  her ; 
she  said  she  expected  one  of  her  husband's  relatives. 
"  Well,  and  were  you  not  dressed  with  perfect  decency  ?  " 
"  The  gentleman  whom  I  expect,"  replied  the  lady,  "  would 


LETTERS  PROM  LONDON.  263 

never  have  called  on  me  again,  had  he  seen  me  in  that 
dress." 

"  You  must  not  judge  by  appearances "  is  the  most 
frequent  precaution  one  hears  in  London  ;  and  perhaps 
one  half  of  the  credit  given  in  this  city  is  due  to  the 
Strength  of  appearance.  In  passing  the  streets  thousands 
will  value  you  with  a  coup  d'ceil.  It  is  surprising  how 
rapidly  the  eyes  of  those  one  meets  will  scrutinize  your 
personal  appearance,  and  invariably  fix  on  that  part  of 
your  dress  which  does  you  the  least  honor !  A  man  with 
a  hole  in  his  stocking  will  meet  with  an  insult  at  every 
step,  unless  the  eyes  of  the  passengers  are  arrested  by  his 
waistcoat  or  his  breeches.  Hence  some  gain  a  false 
credit,  while  others  receive  a  transient  injury,  from  every 
one  they  meet.  So  usual  is  it  to  annex  a  certain  style 
of  appearance  to  certain  characters,  that,  where  the  per- 
sons are  not  known  they  are  in  danger  of  being  taken 
for  impostors.  A  certain  innkeeper  between  Oxford  and 
London  had  never  seen  Counsellor  Garrow,  but  had 
formed  an  idea  of  his  personal  appearance.  Unfortunately 
for  Garrow,  this  innkeeper  had  decorated  him  with  the 
trappings  of  a  Lord  Mayor,  and  imagined  a  person  very 
different  from  plain  Mr.  Garrow.  Mr.  Garrow's  carriage 
breaking  down  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  innkeeper,  the 
owner  endeavored  to  bargain  for  another  to  proceed  to 
London ;  but  the  innkeeper  hesitating  to  trust  his  own 
carriage  for  the  broken  one,  Garrow  unwittingly  told  his 
name.  "  Counsellor  Garrow,"  replied  the  innkeeper, 
"  might  command  anything  in  my  house  ;  but  I  believe 
you  to  be  an  arrant  impostor,  and  will  not  trust  you  a 
farthing."  Whether  this  be  true  I  know  not,  but  I  heard 
Garrow  tell  it  to  embellish  some  case  he  was  supporting. 

This  letter  has  become  tedious:  expect  the  remainder 
in  my  next ;  for  the  present  Adieu. 


264  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 


LETTER   XXIX. 

London,  June  4. 

Glory  docs  not  so  sensibly  affect  the  English  as  one  might 
imagine.  If  talents  or  valor  be  requited  with  money,  they 
seem  little  solicitous  to  survive  their  bodies.  They  eat 
parsley  with  their  victuals.  The  sight  of  this  plant,  so 
sacred  to  the  ancients,  affects  them  as  little  as  do  turnips 
or  cabbages. 

There  is  now  a  ballad-singer  under  my  window  chanting 
the  praises  of  Nelson.  The  most  characteristic  couplet  is 
the  following  :  — 

"Like  a  true  British  tar  he  sported  while  ashore, 
Has  spent  all  his  money  and  gone  to  sea  for  more." 

Successful  valor  is  scarcely  to  be  censured,  if  the  pres- 
ent time  command  most  of  its  attention  ;  trappings  of  honor, 
splendor  of  appearance,  joyful  ovations  are  the  principal 
rewards  of  valor.  Bravery  is  a  common  virtue ;  mankind 
are  naturally  brave,  and  only  become  cowards  when  they 
become  effeminate.  The  successful  exertion  of  mind  co- 
extends  with  time,  operates  through  every  grade  of  society, 
and  is  felt  through  all  ages.  The  man  whose  fame  is  to 
be  endless  ought  to  feel  himself  the  first  among  mortals, 
whether,  like  Cleanthes,  he  works  in  a  mill,  or,  like  Anax- 
archus,  he  is  pounded  in  a  mortar. 

The  glory  of  valor  and  of  literature  became  a  passion 
with  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  melting  them  sometimes  to 
tears,  and  sometimes  depriving  them  of  sleep.  I  know 
nothing  of  the  English,  if  the  feelings  of  the  present  age 
are  similar  to  those  which  influenced  the  great  men  of 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  265 

Greece  and  Borne.  They  seemed  to  be  endued  with  a  pure, 
ethereal  spirit,  expansive  as  the  light  of  heaven,  and  dis- 
interested as  the  goddess  of  harvest.  Even  those  who 
knew  not  how  to  imitate  them  either  paid  in  admiration  or 
detracted  in  envy.  These  feelings  were,  indeed,  sometimes 
carried  to  excess  by  the  Stoics,  but  had  their  origin  in 
magnanimity.  If  a  man  can  believe  that  poverty  is  not  an 
evil,  and  that  pleasure  may  be  extracted  from  pain  itself, 
he  is  doubtless  a  god  among  men,  and  may  trample  tempta- 
tion under  his  feet. 

Felix,  qui  potuit  reium  cognoscere  causas, 
Atque  metus  omnes,  et  inexorabile  fatuui 
Subjecit  pedibus,  strepitumque  Acherontis  avari ! l 

Can  you  believe  it,  my  dear  fellow,  that  there  are  char- 
acters here  to  whom  Greeks  and  Romans  would  have  erected 
altars,  —  men  who  would  feel  themselves  honored  in  being 
admitted  among  noblemen  whose  chief  distinction  might 
perhaps  be  traced  to  the  herald's  office  ?  What  a  perver- 
sion of  Nature  that  mere  matter  should  thus  gain  ascend- 
ency over  mind !  Nobler  sentiments  would  have  taught 
them  that  the  immortal  exertion  of  mind  ought  to  inspire 
a  slave,  like  Epictetus,  with  more  magnanimity  than  the 
worthless  court  of  a  worthless  monarch 2  could  boast.  How 
can  yon  believe  that  there  are  those  in  England  ready  to 
sell  their  names  to  works  not  their  own ! 

Most  of  the  English,  I  suspect,  would,  like  Congreve, 
rather  be  esteemed  "  independent  gentlemen  "  than  authors 
or  philosophers,  and  would  sell  their  tombs  in  Westminster 
Abbe;  for  a  pair  of  buckskin  breeches.3  I  might  illustrate 
this  with  numerous  instances,  but  they  are  too  well  known 
to  you,  and  are  disgraceful  to  the  republic  of  letters. 

1  Virgil,  Georg.  bk.  ii. 

-  Nero,  under  whom  Epictetus  flourished. 

3  These  are  in  the  fashion  both  iu  summer  and  winter. 


266  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

The  cause  of  this  debasement  of  human  dignity  might 
easily  he  found  ;  republics  and  monarchies  will  ever  exhibit 
the  human  mind  under  different  aspects.  Under  the  for- 
mer an  Aristippus  will  be  an  exception  ;  under  the  latter  a 
Wollstonecraft  and  a  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  will  be  excep- 
tions. It  might  be  worth  the  labor  to  pursue  this  inquiry 
from  the  time  of  the  philosophers  who  flourished  while  the 
republics  of  Greece  were  in  full  vigor,  to  the  period  of  the 
Sophists,  when  liberty  began  to  decline,  thence  down  to 
the  pandering  authors  who  sprung  up  under  the  thousand 
petty  monarchies.  It  would  appear  that  the  government 
of  Greece  through  all  its  various  stages,  from  liberty  to 
slavery,  produced  the  like.  Philosophers  flourished  with 
liberty,  sophists  on  its  decline,  and  an  abandoned  set  of 
parasites  on  its  catastrophe.  Dignity,  servility,  truth, 
falsehood,  knowledge,  ignorance,  virtue,  vice,  —  all  flow 
from  the  spirit  of  the  government  as  naturally  as  the 
stream  flows  from  the  fountain.  "Who  could  not  discern 
that  Cicero  wrote  during  the  existence  of  the  Roman  re- 
public, and  that  Horace  wrote  under  a  monarchy !  Who 
could  not  discern  that  Lord  Bacon  1  at  one  period  of  his 
life  held  the  pen  of  a  slave,  while  Sydney,  Harrington, 
and  Milton  wrote  during  a  respite  ! 

In  short,  this  passion  for  appearance,  pardonable  in  the 
glowworms  of  society,  which  shine  only  in  the  absence  of 
light,  has  not  only  infected  both  city  and  village,  but  has 
pervaded  the  republic  of  letters,  has  tricked  out  philosophy 
in  the  garb  of  the  coxcomb,  and  sent  her  to  dance  attend- 
ance on  the  great. 

1  Lord  Bacon,  in  speaking  of  James  the  First,  in  his  Essay  on  the 
Character  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  says :  "There  remain  two  posthumous  felici- 
ties, which  seem  to  attend  the  more  noble  and  august  passages  of  her  life; 
the  one  is  that  of  her  sneeessor,  tho  other  that  of  her  memory.  For  she 
has  got  such  a  successor,  who  though  by  his  masculine  virtue  and  offspring, 
and  late  accession  to  the  throne,  he  may  excel  and  eclipse  her  glory ; 
yet,  etc." 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON*.  267 

The  remark  must  be  qualified  with  many  exceptions, 
but  I  believe  it  will  generally  be  found  true  that  if  this 
people  could  have  their  choice  of  property  or  happiness, 
they  would  prefer  property  and  trust  their  happiness  to 
the  fashion.  Adieu. 


LETTER  XXX. 

London,  June  16. 

I  dined  yesterday  with  Mr.  L. 

"  And  so,"  said  he,  "  I  have  heard  you  say  you  esteem 
the  English  more  since  you  have  seen  them,  but  esteem 
England  less."  Mr.  L.  then  threw  the  gauntlet  by  ob- 
serving :  "  The  English  form  of  government  exhibits  this 
remarkable  peculiarity,  that  while  all  other  forms  of  gov- 
ernment have  deteriorated  and  become  victims  of  their 
own  corruption,  it  is  the  fortune  of  the  English  Consti- 
tution, —  notwithstanding  so  many  revolutions,  which  fre- 
quently ruin  what  they  are  designed  to  mend,  and  the 
constant  collision  of  party,  which  as  frequently  either  re- 
laxes to  imbecility  or  strains  beyond  the  vigor  of  law, — 
to  stand  at  this  day  the  wonder  of  the  world." 

In.  reply  to  this  it  was  asked :  "  How  does  the  govern- 
ment operate  on  general  happiness  ?  A  government  may 
be  excellent  in  theory,  and  yet  its  administration  be  a 
mockery  of  its  principles :  that  is,  the  government  may 
be  nothing  more  than  a  form." 

Mr.  L.  observed  :  "  The  theory  of  every  government  is 
doubtless  more  pure  than  its  administration;  the  sublimest 
principles  become  sullied  in  their  descent  to  common  life  ; 
but  the  English  Constitution  has  provided   a  remedy  for 


268         LETTERS  FBOM  LONDON. 

every  wrong,  and  brought  that  remedy  home  to  every 
Englishman's  door." 

"  What,  sir,  is  your  definition  of  the  best  form  of 
government  ?" 

"  That,"  replied  Mr.  L.,  "  which  operates  most  exten- 
sively on  general  happiness." 

"  What,  then,  sir,  may  be  the  proportion  between  the 
rich  and  the  poor  in  England  ? " 

"  Whom  do  you  term  poor  ?  " 

"  All  those  whose  daily  industry  produces  only  their 
daily  bread,  and  leaves  them  at  the  end  as  destitute  as  they 
were  at  the  beginning  of  the  year ;  not  only  those  who  have 
not  bread  to  eat,  but  all  those  whose  daily  labor  enriches 
others,  while  it  affords  only  a  scanty  subsistence  to  them- 
selves." 

Madam  L.  observed,  "  Such  were  not  considered  poor 
in  England,  and  you  are  in  a  fair  way  to  conclude  that 
we  are  a  nation  of  beggars." 

Mr.  L.  replied,  "  Perhaps,  four  fifths  of  the  people  would 
come  under  this  description  of  poor."  I  then  asked,  "  What 
was  the  proportion  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth  when 
the  pleasure  of  the  king  was  the  law  of  the  land,  —  greater 
or  less  ? " 

"  There  was,  doubtless,  then,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  a  more  equal 
state  of  things,  for  society  was  not  so  complicated  as  at 
present ;  the  largest  possessions  did  not  exert  so  dangerous 
and  oppressive  an  influence  ;  the  desire  of  acquisition  had 
not  thrust  out  of  doors  the  liberal,  chivalrous  spirit  of 
hospitality." 

"Nor,"  added  I,  "had  commerce  and  manufactures  en- 
riched a  few  at  the  expense  of  the  many." 

"  But  what  is  your  view,"  said  Mr.  L.,  u  comparing  the 
present  state  of  society  with  the  past?  " 

"  Why,  the  English  would  be  willing  to  exchange  the 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  269 

reign  of  his  present  Majesty  for  that  of  Henry  the 
Eighth." 

••  Nay,  sir,  the  spirit  of  the  modern  English  would  not 
tolerate  a  tyrant  like  llenry  on  the  throne ;  and  if  there  be 
at  present  less  general  happiness  in  England  than  there 
was  in  the  days  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  it  is  not  to  be  attrib- 
uted to  the  pernicious  influence  of  the  Constitution  of  1692, 
but  to  the  national  debt." 

"  Very  plausible,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  suppose  the  English 
free  from  debt.  If  your  king  happen  to  be  a  weak  monarch, 
he  falls  into  the  hands  of  a  minister,  —  the  consequence  of 
this  let  Walpole,  Bute,  and  North  answer  ;  if  he  happen  to 
be  an  Edward  First,  an  Edward  Third,  or  Henry  the  Fifth, 
and  capable  of  governing  per  se  without  a  minister,  your 
Constitution  is  pro  tempore  annulled,  for  he  must  be  a 
very  weak  prince  who  is  not  stronger  than  that  Constitu- 
tion which  thwarts  his  wishes.  A  James  the  Second,  I 
readily  admit,  ought  not  to  attempt  an  usurpation  on  the 
Constitution  ;  but  a  bold  prince,  nay,  a  woman,  like  '  good 
queen  Bess,'  might  use  the  Constitution  as  she  did  the  Earl 
of  Essex,  —  flatter  it  when  pleased,  and  discard  it  when 
jealous.  Indeed,  I  hazard  a  doubt  if  your  boasted  Consti- 
tution has  ever  had  a  trial  of  its  strength." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  you  seem  to  be  ignorant,  sir,  that 
the  English  have  a  House  of  Commons,  —  the  protector  of 
the  Constitutional  rights  of  the  subject,  the  watchful  guar- 
dian of  the  interests  of  the  people,  without  whose  consent 
not  a  farthing  can  be  levied  ;  this  is  the  glorious  bulwark 
of  an  Englishman's  liberty.  This  inestimable  popular 
branch  of  the  government  was  peculiar  to  England  until 
the  wisdom  of  your  own  legislators  adopted  it  under  the 
name  of  a  House  of  Representatives." 

"  Your  House  of  Commons,  I  concede,  has  been  a  very 
economical  guardian  of  the  interests  of  the  people  ;  since 


270  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

the  commencement  of  the  last  century,  it  has  involved  them 
in  a  debt  of  only  five  hundred  and  fifty  millions.  Your 
House  bf  Commons  is  the  most  convenient  thing  imagin- 
able for  a  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer ;  it  affords  him 
color  for  those  measures  which  might  have  cost  former 
ministers  their  heads.  Hence,  one  of  them  in  imitation  of 
the  Roman  said  :  '  Money  and  votes  are  equally  necessary, 
for  with  money  I  can  purchase  votes,  and  with  votes  raise 
money.' " 

Mr.  L.  replied :  "  This  national  debt,  which  so  much 
alarms  you,  is  not  only  an  imaginary  evil,  but  a  positive 
good  :  it  consolidates  the  strength  of  the  nation.  The 
riches  of  the  country  have  increased  with  its  debt,  and  at 
this  moment  she  is  as  competent  to  pay  the  interest  as  she 
was  in  the  days  of  George  the  First  or  George  the  Second." 

I  observed :  "  If  the  landholders  and  the  merchants 
should  divide  between  them  the  burden  of  the  national 
debt  there  might  not  be  so  much  cause  for  complaint ; 
but  the  whole  burden  falls  on  the  poor." 

"  How  do  you  make  that  appear  ?  "  said  Mr.  L. 

"  It  is  sufficiently  evident ;  for  there  can  be  no  possible 
proportion  between  that  tax  which  levies  one  hundred 
pounds  on  him  who  will  never  feel  the  remotest  inconven- 
ience from  the  imposition,  and  that  which  levies  only  six- 
pence on  him  who  will  suffer  the  deprivation  of  a  single 
dinner,  or  work  two  extra  hours,  in  consequence  of  the 
tax  ;  and  this  is  equally  true  whether  the  tax  be  direct  or 
indirect.  Therefore,  your  national  debt  does  impoverish 
the  country,  and  chain  the  poor  to  hopeless  poverty.  It  is 
a  tyrant  whom  no  law  can  bind,  no  weapon  reach,  no  sub- 
mission soften,  no  condition  escape  ;  a  new  species  of  mon- 
ster, which  would  collect  within  itself  the  whole  world,  and 
then  sink  beneath  its  own  weight." 

"  But,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  what  nation  under  heaven  ever  dis- 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  271 

criminated  in  this  manner  between  the  rich  and  the  poor  ? 
It  is  utterly  impossible,  if  the  taxes  be  indirect.  Do 
they,  in  your  country,  discriminate  between  the  rich  and 
the  poor  ? " 

Thus  Mr.  L.  turned  my  eyes  on  our  own  country.  Cer- 
tainly, my  dear  fellow,  it  is  one  of  the  first  principles,  and 
it  ought  to  be  the  operation  of  our  Constitution,  to  check 
the  tendency  of  inequality,  to  burden  those  least  whose 
doors  open  with  a  wooden  latch,  to  facilitate  the  endeavors 
of  industry,  and  to  discountenance  the  redundancy  of 
wealth.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XXXI. 


Loxdox,  June  27. 

There  is  no  description  of  people  in  England  holden  in 
less  respect  than  the  Quakers ;  yet  I  have  seen  no  sect  in 
this  country  with  whom  I  have  been  more  pleased.  The 
cause  of  this  dislike  lies  very  deep.  In  a  corrupted  state 
of  society,  those  who  approach  nearest  to  first  principles 
will  forever  be  objects  of  dislike,  if  not  of  abhorrence,  with 
the  rest  of  the  community  ;  for  the  latter  will  naturally 
hate  those  who  differ  from  them  in  so  many  important 
points,  and  who  not  only  differ  from  them,  but  interfere 
with  their  immediate  interests. 

With  respect  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  the  Quakers  cer- 
tainly are  a  hopeless  and  barren  set  of  people.  They  hate 
in  equal  degree  both  kings  and  priests.  Their  consciences 
revolt  at  tithes  in  any  shape  ;  therefore  the  clergy  hate 
them.  Their  own  meditations  serve  them  instead  of 
preaching ;  therefore  the  religious  of  most  other  denomi- 
nations  dislike   them.     Their  temperance  laughs   at   the 


272  LETTEBS  FROM  LONDON. 

physician,  and  their  honesty  starves  the  lawyer,  while  their 
prudence  and  foresight  exalt  them  above  the  active,  in- 
jurious hatred  of  the  world,  and  elevate  them  above  those 
who  despise  them.  Their  decency  of  carriage,  their  un- 
assuming manners,  their  habitual  economy,  and  their 
general  spirit  of  equity,  have  long,  and  will  perhaps  for- 
ever connect  them  in  a  body  as  lasting  as  their  present 
maxims. 

There  is  one  characteristic  which  distinguishes  the 
Quakers  from  all  other  sects.  They  exhibit  nothing  of 
the  spirit  of  proselytism ;  their  favorite  sentiments  par- 
take not  of  enthusiasm ;  they  hurl  no  damnation  on  the 
rest  of  the  world.  Tolerant  of  everybody,  they  consider 
all  honest  men  their  brethren.  There  is  not  a  single  trait 
in  their  character  which  is  incentive  to  ill-will,  nor  a  move- 
ment in  their  conduct  which  has  ever  courted  persecution. 
Their  humility  has  never  resisted  even  oppression  ;  patient 
in  suffering,  they  arc  active  only  in  support  of  their  prin- 
ciples. Remote  from  all  hypocrisy,  they  have  never 
sought  after  temporal  power,  nor  has  their  own  system 
ever  operated  to  the  prejudice  of  others.  Yet  this  sect 
has  been  persecuted  and  its  members  put  to  death  !  This 
is  the  blackest  stigma  on  human  nature  with  which  the 
annals  of  politics  or  religion  have  been  stained. 

Though  the  Quakers  live  under  a  monarchy  they  have 
contrived,  without  the  aid  .  of  temporal  favors,  to  erect 
themselves  into  a  government  of  their  own,  approaching 
as  near  to  a  republic  as  is  consistent  with  any  sort  of  allegi- 
ance to  the  national  government.  This  is  a  masterpiece  of 
policy,  which  has  gained  them  a  firm  standing  in  the  midst 
of  their  enemies,  and  which  ought  to  teach  the  rest  of  man- 
kind that  it  is  practicable  for  a  virtuous,  persevering  few 
to  counteract  the  many.  The  Quakers  have  contrived  to 
render  themselves  happy  in  the  midst  of  misery,  and  free, 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  273 

in  a  great  measure,  in  the  midst  of  slavery.  Hence,  they 
have  all  that  natural,  unaffected  dignity,  and  all  that 
manly,  cordial  spirit  of  accommodation  which  man  shows 
to  fnan  before  he  becomes  degenerate  ;  and  hence,  they  re- 
gard mankind  pretty  much  as  that  Cherokee  did,  who,  being 
introduced  at  Paris  and  shown  everything  which  was  sup- 
posed capable  of  delighting  or  surprising  him,  was  asked, 
after  his  eyes  had  devoured  the  objects  of  a  whole  week's 
exhibition,  what  astonished  him  most.  He  answered, 
"The  difference  between  man  and  man;"  and  then  being 
asked  with  what  he  was  most  delighted,  he  replied,  "  I  was 
most  delighted  to  see  a  passenger  help  to  carry  a  heavy 
burden  which  he  saw  upon  the  back  of  another." 

Although  the  Quakers  approach  nearer  to  the  religion  of 
Nature,  notwithstanding  their  correspondence  with  the 
world,  than  any  systematic  sect  which  has  ever  appeared, 
they  still  hold  to  the  great  principles  of  the  Christian  religion, 
though  in  point  of  "  orthodoxy  "  they  can  hardly  be  termed 
Christians.  Most  other  religious  persons,  whether  east- 
ern sages  or  western  saints,  have  retired  from  the  world  in 
the  degree  they  have  approached  Brahma  or  Jesus,  while  the 
Quakers,  contented  with  this  world  until  they  can  find  a 
better,  have  found  the  secret  of  living  in  the  midst  of  so- 
ciety, and  of  mingling  as  much  of  this  world  as  is  consistent 
with  heaven,  and  as  much  of  heaven  as  is  consistent  with 
making  the  most  of  this  world. 

I  have  been  led  to  these  observations  from  a  circum- 
stance which  occurred  yesterday.  I  found  on  my  table 
the  following  printed  notice  :  "  Some  of  the  people  called 
Quakers,  intend  to  hold  a  meeting  this  evening,  at  their 
place  of  worship,  in  Martin's  Court,  St.  Martin's  Lane,  to 
which  the  neighbours  are  invited."  In  expectation  of 
something  extraordinary,  I  attended.  At  the  door  I  was 
received  by  one  of  the  Friends,  who  introduced  me  to  a  seat 
is 


27-1  LETTERS   FROM   LONDON. 

among  the  elders.  The  house  was  soon  filled,  and  a  pro- 
found silence  reigned  for  a  few  minutes,  when  one  of  the 

brethren  rose  and  began  to  speak,  but  he  had  not  spoken 
a  minute,  when  an  elder  said,  "  We  would  take  it  kind  of 
thee,  friend,  to  sit  down."  The  speaker  looked  up  to 
see  whence  the  disapprobation  proceeded,  then  bowing  in 
acquiescence,  sat  down.  Presently  a  fine-looking  elderly 
lady  of  matronly  appearance,  dressed  in  the  most  elegant 
simplicity,  rose,  and  after  a  warm  and  impressive  prayer, 
delivered  extempore  an  animated  and  edifying  discourse 
with  a  flow  of  elocution  and  grace  of  manner,  which,  had 
she  been  forty  years  younger,  might  have  inflamed  those 
passions  she  sought  to  allay. 

There  is  one  defect  in  the  polity  of  the  Quakers,  which 
will  forever  subject  them  to  the  tyranny  of  the  times,  — 
they  love  peace  so  well  that  they  will  not  even  fight  for 
their  liberty.  This  known  principle  divests  them  of  all 
political  consequence  when  those  great  political  movements 
are  agitated  which  sometimes  involve  the  deepest  conse- 
quences to  society.  Otherwise,  the  Quakers  would  gradu- 
ally effect  a  revolution  throughout  the  world. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XXXII. 

London,  July  9. 
It  is  the  custom  of  some  of  the  London  booksellers  to 
give  weekly  dinners  to  their  literary  and  other  friends. 
Hence  you  sometimes  find  at  the  same  table,  characters 
who  would  never  have  met  except  under  the  auspices  of 
roast  beef  and  Madeira  wine.  It  was  these  which  brought 
together  "Jack  Wilkes  and  the  venerable  Samuel  Johnson." 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  275 

A  bookseller's  dinner  is  doubly  a  treat  to  his  guests.  It 
offers  an  indirect  but  agreeable  compliment,  by  telling 
them  their  own  fame  has  enabled  him  to  treat  them  so 
sumptuously. 

The  republic  of  letters  is  never  more  respectable  than  on 
those  occasions  of  good  humor  and  liberal  mirth,  when  all 
the  arts  and  sciences  find  themselves  encircled  round  the 
festive  board.  The  man  who  is  in  the  habit  of  associating 
with  his  enemy  will  frequently  finish  by  esteeming  him. 
Mr.  Malthus,  who,  in  opposition  to  the  "  Political  Justice," 
has  written  an  essay  on  the  "  Principle  of  Population,"  a 
work  of  some  fame,  was  lately  seated  at  a  bookseller's 
dinner  next  to  Mr.  Godwin. 

Yesterday,  I  found  myself  at  Mr.  Johnson's,  the  booksel- 
ler, in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  where,  among  those  to 
whom  1  was  introduced,  was  Fuseli  the  painter,  and  a 
Scotch  gentleman  who  is  publishing  in  Scotland  a  new 
edition  of  Ossian  in  the  "  original  language." 

The  English  don't  say  much  at  the  table  till  the  first 
course  is  finished  ;  but  their  manner  of  eating  soon  throws 
them  into  a  gentle  fever  which  invites  to  sociability  when 
they  have  sufficient  confidence  in  the  company.  Mr. 
r.niinveastle  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  entertainment ; 
though  remarkably  merry,  I  suspect  he  is  a  mathematician, 
for  he  remarked  that  "  the  ball  on  the  top  of  St.  Paul's 
would  appear  ten  times  larger  if  placed  on  the  ground  at 
the  same  distance."  The  difference  in  the  medium  of 
vision  was  concluded  to  be  the  cause  of  this  ;  but  one  of 
the  company,  who  thought  it  much  easier  to  be  certain  of  a 
thing  than  to  ascertain  its  truth,  proposed  to  Mr.  Bonny- 
castle  to  go  and  measure  the  circumference  of  the  ball  and 
then  make  the  experiment. 

Fuseli  was  the  life  of  the  entertainment.  Ready  on  all 
occasions,  his  happy  combination  of  language  joined  to  his 


276  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

emphatic  manner,  bordering  hard  on  dogmatism,  together 
with  bis  deep  insight  into  human  nature,  renders  him  an 
oracle  wherever  he  goes.  This  is  the  same  Fuscli  to  whom 
Lavater  dedicated  his  "  Aphorisms."  His  first  publication 
was  a  romantic  essay  on  the  principal  works  of  Rousseau, 
written,  as  Mr.  Johnson,  the  publisher,  informs  me,  forty 
years  since  ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  present  he  has 
published  nothing  except  his  professional  lectures.1  Fuscli 
was  brought  up  in  the  family  of  Lavater,  and  caught 
from  the  latter  not  a  little  of  the  enthusiasm  of  his  char- 
acter. He  spoke  of  Lavater  with  reverence  and  affection, 
and  seemed  gratified  with  my  marks  of  respect  for  the 
memory  of  that  original  sage.  One  of  the  company  related 
the  following  anecdote  of  Lavater :  "  A  Swiss  lady  waited 
on  him  to  request  his  opinion  of  her.  Lavater  observed 
her  a  considerable  time,  and  promised  he  would  send  her  a 
written  character.  The  contents  of  his  letter  were, '  Very 
pretty,  very  silly.'"  I  remarked  that  "pretty"  had  no 
relation  to  character,  and  if  it  had,  Lavater's  style  of  con- 
duct was  very  remote  from  such  trifling.  Fuseli  nodded 
assent,  and  said  that  the  author  of  the  anecdote  knew 
nothing  of  Lavater's  character. 

There  must  have  been  a  conflict  in  the  mind  of  Fuseli, 
between  the  painter  and  the  author,  but  the  painter  got  the 
ascendency,  and  claims  a  large  portion  of  the  sublimity  of 
his  character.  However,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  he  some- 
,  times  regrets  that  he  has  preferred  the  temporary  and  lim- 
ited fame  of  the  brush  to  the  more  durable  and  extensive 
expression  of  the  pen  ;  for  his  conversation  shows  all  the 
correctness  of  the  scholar  with  the  enthusiasm  of  original 
sentiment.  His  profession  has  naturally  led  him  to  history, 
which  he  seems  to  have  explored  with  the  jealous  eye  of 
incredulity. 

1  Fuseli  is  Professor  of  Painting  in  the  Koval  Academy. 


LETTERS  FKOM  LONDON.  277 

The  character  of  Julian  was  accidentally  remarked  upon 
by  one  of  the  company.  Julian,  whom  his  enemies  have 
attempted  to  depreciate  with  the  name  of  Apostate,  has 
always  been  a  favorite  of  mine,  on  account  of  his  justice, 
valor,  constancy  in  adversity,  and  moderation  in  command. 
But  Fuseli,  1  perceived,  regarded  Julian  with  mure  than 
dislike,  —  with  abhorrence ;  and  wben  I  volunteered  in 
his  defence,  and  appealed  to  the  M  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire,"  he  put  me  down  by  saying  that  "  Ainmi- 
anus  Marcellinus,  the  historical  authority  of  Gibbon,  had 
drawn  a  very  different  character  of  Julian  from  that  exhib- 
ited in  the  '  Decline  and  Fall.'  The  worst  traits  in  his 
character  are  concealed,  and  the  best  embellished  by  Gib- 
bon, who,  fond  of  Julian,  was  afraid  of  spoiling  his  hero  by 
giving  him  his  just  character."  However,  Gibbon  is  not 
the  only  historian  who  has  taken  delight  in  celebrating 
the  virtues,  the  wisdom,  and  the  valor  of  Julian  ;  and  I 
am  yet  to  be  persuaded  that  Julian  the  Apostate  was  not 
a  fine  fellow,  and  worth  all  the  holy  Fathers  who 
have  worn  a  tiara. 

The  features  of  Fuseli  are  as  strongly  marked  as  if  they 
had  been  cut  in  marble  ;  but  his  character,  which  I  suspect 
is  naturally  violent,  seems  tempered  with  philosophy  and 
adorned  with  an  exquisite  taste.  Eccentric  from  his  cra- 
dle, age  has  taken  nothing  from  the  impetuosity  of  his  con- 
ceptions, which  by  turns  dazzle,  elevate,  and  astonish.  It 
is  now  a  profound  remark,  then  general  satire,  and  pres- 
ently a  romantic  excursion.  In  all  the  relations  of  life, 
in  short,  Fuseli  is  a  respectable  man. 

The  Scotch  gentleman,  who  is  publishing  Ossian  in  the 
"original  language,"  bad  come  to  London  to  mortgage  a 
large  quantity  of  Scotch  land.  One  of  the  company  at 
dinner  whispered,  "  Be  ought  to  have  gone  to  Norway 
or  Lapland ;   there  Scotch  lands  might  be  praised." 


278  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

The  new  edition  of  Ossian  gave  rise  to  several  obser- 
vations. I  endeavored  to  obtain  Fuscli's  opinion  of  the 
authority  of  those  poems,  but  was  prevented  by  the  rapid- 
ity of  his  conversation.  He  seemed  to  treat  the  poems 
with  no  great  respect,  and  at  length  let  off  a  shot  at  the 
whole  clan  of  Scotch  poets,  by  roundly  asserting  that  all 
the  Scotch  rhymers  put  together  would  not  amount  to  half 
a  poet.  Fuseli,  I  discovered,  would  allow  no  man  to  be  a 
poet  who  is  not  in  the  habit  of  attaining  to  the  sublime. 
He  himself  deals  altogether  in  the  sublime  of  painting. 
He  has  even  attempted  the  sublime  in  the  three  witches  in 
Macbeth.  But  if  the  object  of  the  various  kinds  of  poetry 
be  to  please,  to  enrapture,  to  soothe,  to  elevate,  he  is  a  true 
poet  who  can  attain  his  object  in  either  way.  The  Greeks 
were  not  so  nice  :  Anacreon,  Theocritus,  and  Pindar  were 
acknowledged  by  all  Greece.  Then  why  should  Allan 
Ramsay,  Thompson,  and  Burns  be  questioned  ?  For  my 
part,  I  should  be  loath  to  see  the  more  humble  Beattie 
whipped  from  Parnassus. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  opinion  of  the  Scotch  gentleman 
that  if  the  "  original  language  "  was  printed  with  the  trans- 
lation of  Ossian,  every  doubt  respecting  the  authority  of  the 
poems  would  be  silenced.  I  suggested  the  possibility  that 
the  "  original  language  "  might  have  been  translated  from 
Macpherson"s  Ossian,  and  if  so,  the  fact  would  probably 
raise  another  storm  of  criticism. 

Adieu. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  279 


LETTER   XXXIII. 

London,  July  20. 

An  excursion  at  this  season  of  the  year  to  Oxford,  on 
foot,  with  an  intelligent  companion,  will  afford  all  that 
the  charms  of  Nature  can  give,  in  addition  to  what  one 
may  collect  as  a  tourist. 

Having  procured  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Mr.  Portall, 
a  fellow  of  St.  John's,  Oxford,  we  proceeded  by  the  way  of 
Windsor,  the  summer  residence  of  their  Majesties.  Nine 
miles  from  the  city,  on  the  road  to  Windsor,  is  Turnham 
Green ;  here  dwells  the  venerable  Dr.  Griffiths,1  the  pro- 
jector of  the  "  Monthly  Review."  Having  formerly  been 
introduced,  and  received  by  him  with  the  affectionate  com- 
pliment that  he  had  "  a  reverence  for  the  citizens  of  the 
United  States,"  we  called  on  this  literary  patriarch,  and 
ran  over  fifty  years  in  about  an  hour  and  a  half.  Sociable, 
as  most  old  men  are  when  you  have  their  confidence,  and 
highly  interesting,  by  having  at  command  the  cream  of  all 
the  literature  and  the  connecting  anecdotes  of  the  last 
half  century,  Pr.  Griffiths  requires  only  your  attention  to 
carry  you  into  the  "greenroom"  of  the  republic  of  letters. 
Fortunately  for  most  celebrated  authors,  their  books  live, 
and  their  memories  perish ;  otherwise  the  glory  of  their 
Dames  would  rarely  save  their  characters  from  contempt. 

I  asked  him  if  David  Hume  did  not  formerly  reside  in 
that  vicinity,  and  if  he  was  acquainted  with  that  writer. 
Dr.  Griffiths  pointed  from  the  window  to  the  house  in 
which  Hume  resided  while  at  Turnham  Green.  He  added  : 
"  Both  Hume  and  Rousseau  have  spent  many  an  hour  in 

1  Lately  deceased. 


280  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

this  room."  I  was  transported  by  the  fact  that  I  was 
conversing  with  a  man  who  had  been  intimate  with  Rous- 
seau, and  1  was  anxious  to  collect  every  particular  respect- 
ing that  wonderful  character. 

Dr.  Griffiths  thought  Rousseau  knew  the  human  heart 
much  better  in  the  closet  than  he  did  in  the  world,  which, 
notwithstanding  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  led  him  to  ex- 
hibit —  " 

"  Then,"  I  added,  interrupting  him,  "  he  had  an  excel- 
lent heart  ? " 

"  —  which,  not  withstanding  the  goodness  of  his  heart," 
repeated  the  doctor,  "  frequently  led  him  to  exhibit  a  jeal- 
ousy, which  rendered  it  extremely  difficult  for  people  to 
accommodate  themselves  to  him." 

"  But,  sir,  this  jealousy  was  nothing  more  than  the 
excess  of  sensibility ;  it  did  not  originate  in  envy  ? " 

"  No ;  who  was  there  for  Rousseau  to  envy  ?  Rousseau 
envied  no  man." 

"  But,"  1  added,  "  Voltaire,  I  suspect,  envied  Rousseau." 

"  No  wonder,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  the  world  gave  Vol- 
taire a  rival,  and  Voltaire  had  not  sufficient  magnanimity 
to  admire  a  man  who  like  Minerva  sprung  full-grown 
from  the  head  of  Jupiter,  and  who  seemed  to  usurp  part 
of  that  temple  in  which  Voltaire  alone  had  been  so  long 
worshipped." 

I  asked  the  doctor,  "How  did  Rousseau  spend  his  time 
when  he  visited  you  ? " 

"As  little  like  a  philosopher,"  he  replied,  "  as  you  can 
imagine.  He  had  a  small  sagacious  dog  called  Cupid, 
that  always  followed  him.  Whenever  Rousseau  was  urged 
to  converse  on  subjects  either  disagreeable  or  fatiguing  to 
him,  he  would  begin  to  sing ;  at  the  same  moment  Cupid 
would  begin  to  dance,  —  and  thus  Rousseau  would  fre- 
quently spend  two  hours,  excepting  those  short  intervals 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  281 

when  Cupid  would  make  a  blunder,  and  then  his  master 
would  fall  a-laughing.  In  this  manner  would  the  philos- 
opher of  Ermenonville  spend  many  an  hour  in  that  window- 
seat,  while  he  resided  in  this  town  with  Hume." 

We  left  this  civil  old  gentleman,  who  made  us  promise 
to  come  and  eat  a  bit  of  mutton  with  him,  and  proceeded 
to  Windsor.  The  castle  is  on  a  high  hill  of  gentle  ascent, 
and  from  the  Round  Tower  commands  a  fine  prospect  of 
not  less  than  twelve  counties.  But  nothing  gave  me 
more  pleasure  than  the  view  of  Runnymead,  so  memorable 
for  the  extortion  of  Magna  Charta  from  King  John,  —  if  a 
natural  right  can  ever  be  said  to  be  extorted.  It  is  a  pity 
that  every  royal  castle  has  not  a  Runnymcad  in  sight.  I 
observed  that  the  keeper,  who  pointed  out  the  places  of 
most  note,  passed  his  eye  over  this  famous  campaign. 
Within  a  short  distance  and  seemingly  within  reach,  stands 
Eton  College,  noted  for  good  classical  scholars.  The  hills, 
covered  with  wheat,  which  was  quite  ripe  and  promised 
a  golden  harvest,  the  stately  oaks,  and  trees  of  less  growth 
variegated  the  face  of  Nature ;  while  the  brute  creation 
grazing  at  large  in  the  neighboring  plains,  the  calmness  of 
the  scene  around,  the  approaching  decline  of  day,  together 
with  the  curling  smoke  from  the  fire-hearths  of  many  vil- 
lages, inspired  a  serenity  of  mind  which  was  fast  approach- 
ing to  a  religious  revery,  when  a  beggar1  who  had  followed 
us  up  to  the  Round  Tower  broke  the  charm. 

The  castle  is  ornamented  with  many  fine  paintings, 
among  which  the  cartoons  of  Raphael  were  shown  to  us. 
Of  course  I  admired  them,  not  that  I  know  an  original  from 
a  copy ;  I  only  aspire  to  judge  of  the  design  and  execution, 
of  the  moral  or  humor  of  the  piece,  or  whether  it  be  true  to 
Nature ;  and  every  one  can  do  this.  The  cartoons  are  so 
called  by  way  of  eminence,  to  distinguish  six  of  Raphael's 
1  The  roval  waiter  who  admitted  us  to  the  castle. 


282  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

large  paintings,  the  subjects  of  which  are  taken  from  inter- 
esting passages  of  the  New  Testament,  whence  most  of  the 
subjects  of  the  Italian  masters  are  taken. 

You,  in  the  United  States,  know  nothing  of  the  rap- 
tures which  fine  paintings  are  capable  of  raising  in  the 
arms,  face,  and  shoulders  of  real  amateurs.  A  man  is 
scarcely  a  critic  unless  he  can  expire  in  convulsions  or 
become  petrified  with  astonishment  at  the  sight  of  a  line 
new  painting.  At  the  late  annual  exhibition  at  the 
Royal  Academy,  I  observed  a  gentleman  examining  very 
attentively  one  of  Turner's  recent  paintings.  For  my 
part,  I  had  visited  all  the  rooms  and  was  about  to  retire 
when  I  saw  the  same  man  fixed  in  the  same  place  and  con- 
templating the  same  portrait.  I  ventured  to  inquire  of  him 
what  he  saw  in  that  portrait,  which  commanded  so  much  of 
his  attention.  "  See  !  "  exclaimed  he,  "  I  see  something 
that  looks  a  little  like  painting !  I  wish  I  was  chained  to 
that  portrait!"  I  told  him  that  Lord  Thurlow1  would  have 
no  objection  to  that,  as  he  was  fond  of  chains  and  slavery. 

I  lately  visited  a  small  collection  of  pictures,  which  cost 
the  proprietor  £  20,000.  He  had  formerly  made  the  tour 
of  Europe  in  search  of  paintings,  and  was  then  gone  to 
Italy  to  purchase  more.  Two  of  the  pictures,  called  by 
way  of  eminence  the  Murillos,  which  cost  him  .=£4,000 
sterling,  would  scarcely  sell  at  a  Boston  vendue  for  so 
many  pence,  —  only  because  we  do  not  know  the  worth  of 
pictures.  However,  if  the  affluent  have  no  worse  passion 
than  a  passion  for  fine  paintings,  let  them  enjoy  both  by 
day  and  night  their  sleeping  Venuses,  or  wanton  with  the 
houris  over  the  landscapes  of  Claude  Lorrain. 

The  time  now  approached  when  it  was  expected  that  the 
royal  family  would  walk  on  the  terrace.  The  terrace  is 
situate  on  the  declivity  of  the  hill  southeasterly  from  the 

1  It  was  a  must  striking  likeuess  of  Lord  Thurlow. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  283 

castle.  It  is  a  charming  walk,  faced  with  freestone,  and, 
as  I  judge,  is  nearly  two  thousand  feet  in  length.  Here,  in 
fine  weather,  their  Majesties  with  the  princes  and  prin- 
cesses, accompanied  by  a  band  of  musicians,  graciously 
walk  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  to  show  themselves  to 
strangers.  Behind  the  royal  family  came  several  lords  in 
waiting  whom  I  stupidly  mistook  for  liveried  servants ;  so 
nearly  allied,  sometimes,  is  the  height  of  greatness  to  the 
height  of  meanness.  There  were  as  many  as  a  hundred 
Strangers  who  lined  the  terrace  to  view  this  royal  exhibi- 
tion. As  his  Majesty  passed  by  they  stood  uncovered,  he 
himself  frequently  bowing  to  the  spectators. 

The  same  evening  we  proceeded  to  Maidenhead.  A 
sound  sleep  would  have  been  highly  agreeable,  but  like  all 
strangers  who  tarry  in  that  town,  we  were  compelled  to  lie 
awake.  At  every  half-hour  a  watchman  crying  the  time 
of  night  passed  under  my  window,  and  what  made  the 
matter  worse  he  tagged  every  thirty  minutes  with  "  Praise 
the  Lord  !     Amen  !  "     A  monkish  relic,  I  suppose. 

Our  landlord,  one  of  the  most  civil  men  in  the  world, 
had  risen  before  us  and  seemed  really  sorry  to  have  us  go 
before  breakfast.  The  English  inns  are  certainly  the  most 
accommodating  places  in  the  world ;  two  knocks  on  the 
table  will  immediately  produce  all  the  effects  of  magic. 
1  have  never  met  in  England  but  one  innkeeper  who 
did  not  appear  to  be  a  gentleman.  This  was  at  Newbury. 
It  is  the  custom  for  most  of  the  English  to  drink  at  every 
inn  at  which  a  stage  stops.  As  the  English  travel  day  and 
night,  a  passenger  will  sometimes  drink  about  twelve  times 
in  the  twenty-four  hours,  besides  what  he  drinks  at  dinner. 
The  landlord,  having  waited  on  those  who  were  most 
pressing  for  drink,  at  length  came  up  to  one  of  the  pas- 
sengers and  asked  him  what  he  would  have.  The  pas- 
senger assured  him  that  he  had  drunk   five  times  since 


284         LETTERS  PBOM  LONDON. 

dinner,  and  could  not  venture  on  any  more.  "  But  then," 
.said  the  landlord,  "  what  shall  I  make  by  you?"  "Oh,  sir, 
you  shall  lose  nothing  by  me,"  replied  the  passenger;  "if 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  deduct  from  a  pint  of  porter  the 
original  cost  and  duties,  I  will  pay  you  the  difference 
between  that  amount  and  the  retail  price." 

We  breakfasted  at  Henley,  a  considerable  country  town ; 
and  while  breakfast  was  preparing,  I  went  into  a  neighbor- 
ing churchyard  —  the  place  of  most  interest  in  many 
country  towns  —  to  read  the  epitaphs,  some  of  which  were 
highly  impressive,  though  written  in  very  bad  taste.  Pos- 
sibly without  knowing  it,  the  writers  of  these  epitaphs 
sometimes  hit  upon  the  sublime  of  human  character.  The 
following  epitaph  I  met  with  in  a  country  village  :  "  Here 
lies  the  body  of  Henry  Steele.  He  was  a  good  son  and  a 
good  brother,  a  good  husband  and  a  good  father ;  and  the 
neighbors  all  followed  him  to  his  grave." 

Between  Henley  and  Oxford,  the  prospects,  scenery,  and 
cultivation,  the  ripe  and  abundant  harvest  of  wheat,  the 
mellow  temperature  of  the  season,  —  all  conspired  to 
enhance  those  pleasures  which  liberal  Nature  offers  to  the 
senses. 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  this  is  a  delightful  country ! " 
"  Yes,"  replied  my  companion,  "  but  finish  your  rhapsody 
quickly,  or  it  will  end  in  a  sarcasm."  I  looked  up  and 
saw  at  a  distance  a  company  of  gleaners  approaching, 
with  their  arms  full  of  sheaves.  "There,"  said  he,  "  your 
first  reflection  will  be  that,  although  Providence  has  lav- 
ished an  abundant  harvest,  this  little  company  of  gleaners 
will  scarcely  have  in  winter  bread  enough,  while  the  grana- 
ries, in  mockery  of  Ceres,  will  hold  much  of  this  wheat 
until  it  rots.  But  who  can  help  it,  if  monopolizers  frus- 
trate God's  providence  ? " 

As   the  gleaners  passed  by,  I  asked  one  of  them  why 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  285 

the}-  went  so  far  to  glean,  when  the  reapers  were  so  busy 
all  around.  "  Oh,  sir,"  said  another  of  the  company  who 
seemed  to  be  the  brightest,  "  it  is  not  every  farmer  that 
permits  us  to  glean,  nor  is  it  a  favor  granted  to  every 
one." 

We  passed  on.  "  Ah,"  said  my  fellow-traveller,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders  in  raillery,  "  this  would  be  a  charming 
country  if  there  were  no  men  in  it ! " 

In  the  evening  we  arrived  at  Oxford,  an  inland  city, 
about  sixty  miles  northwesterly  from  London,  and  famous 
all  over  the  world  as  a  nursery  of  great  men  and  great 
scholars.  Oxford  particularly  is  an  object  of  curiosity  on 
account  of  the  variety  of  Gothic  architecture.  The  col- 
leges, twenty  in  number,  are  very  large,  and  some  of  them 
are  noble  buildings  in  the  Gothic  style.  Separated  from 
one  another  at  considerable  distance,  they  give  the  city  a 
most  venerable  and  solemn  aspect.  Oxford  too  has  the 
happiness  of  being  visited  by  the  Thames,  of  all  rivers  in 
the  world  the  most  adored  by  Englishmen.  The  Hindoos 
do  not  hold  the  Ganges  in  higher  veneration  than  do  the 
English  this  river,  and  should  they  become  idolaters  they 
would  pay  divine  honors  to  silver  Thames.  The  Cherwell, 
too,  and  the  more  humble  Isis  are  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Oxford. 

In  the  morning  we  waited  on  Mr.  Portall.  I  cannot 
express  to  you  how  cordially  he  received  us ;  he  gave  us 
two  days  of  unwearied  attention.  He  is  a  ripe  scholar 
and,  what  is  more,  a  man  of  good  sense.  He  seemed  to 
partake  of  the  satisfaction  he  afforded  in  showing  us  every- 
thing remarkable  in  the  different  colleges,  which  he  ren- 
dered  doubly  impressive  by  adding  all  the  interesting 
particulars  which  have  been  collecting  for  ages. 

The  Bodleian  Library,  the  largest  in  the  world  except 
that  of  the  Vatican  at  Rome,  contains   many   precious, 


286  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

unillumined  manuscripts,  which  no  doubt  in  the  course 
of  centuries  will  enrapture  many  an  antiquary,  as  will  the 
Arundelian  marbles  lately  arrived  from  the  East.  These 
fragments  were  imported  at  great  expense;  and  probably 
when  the  inscriptions  are  deciphered,  it  will  be  found  that 
they  amount  to  nothing  more  than  some  loose  couplets  to 
a  favorite  mistress,  or  what  is  more  pernicious,  that  they 
record  the  apotheosis  of  some  tyrant. 

Some  of  these  manuscripts  are  so  exceedingly  obscure 
that  it  is  not  yet  ascertained  in  what  language  they  are 
written.  It  is  told  with  considerable  humor  that  one  of 
them  was  presented  to  a  famous  antiquary,  who  after  six 
months  returned  it,  giving  his  serious  opinion  that  the 
manuscript  was  a  ramification  of  a  branch  of  a  dialect 
of  the  language  which  was  spoken  by  the  northern  Huns 
who  broke  down  the  Great  Wall  of  China ! 

This  immense  library  was  to  me  a  source  of  various  re- 
flection. "Here,"  thought  I,  "is  collected  not  a  little  of 
the  nonsense  of  the  days  of  monkery,  much  of  the  truth 
and  falsehood  of  antiquity,  the  romantic  extravagance  of 
the  days  of  chivalry, '  which  now,  alas,  are  gone  forever  ! ' 
and  the  more  dangerous,  because  more  subtle,  dictates  of 
modern  tyranny."  The  wonderful  exertion  of  the  human 
mind  which  this  library  displays  produced  a  mingled  emo- 
tion of  admiration,  pity,  and  contempt  for  the  sublimity, 
perversion,  and  meanness  of  the  race  of  philosophers  and 
authors.  Nine  tenths  of  the  volumes  here  laid  up  in  liter- 
ary penance  ought  to  have  sent  their  authors  to  bedlam ; 
for  every  famous  book  filled  with  more  errors  than  truths 
adds  a  new  link  to  the  chain  of  error.  Notwithstanding 
truth  is  eternal,  and  error  temporary,  yet  owing  to  self- 
interest,  passion,  and  wrong-headedness,  there  are  in  all 
countries  ten  errors  published  for  every  one  truth  ;  hence 
we   ought  not  to  wonder  at  the  doubt  in  which  men  of 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  287 

sense  arc  involved,  nor  at  the  inconsistencies  into  which 
the  thoughtless  fall.  Truth  and  error  are  at  first  received 
by  mankind  with  equal  credit,  and  when  these  ten  errors 
arc  discovered  the  solitary  truth  is  not  secure,  for  out  of 
mere  resentment  the  errors  turn  persecutors. 

Your  fancy  cannot  figure,  either  in  Arcadia  or  in  imag- 
inary Parnassus,  more  charming  retreats  for  contemplation, 
or  more  inspiring  recesses  for  prosecuting  lofty  composi- 
tion than  those  afforded  by  the  secluded  gardens  of  the 
colleges.  Here  the  peripatetics  might  have  forgotten 
their  favorite  walks,  or  the  more  refined  Epicurus  and 
his  disciples  their  earthly  paradise.  Here  Art  has  success- 
fully introduced  the  varieties  of  Nature,  and  administers 
to  the  senses  at  the  same  time  she  expands  the  heart  and 
elevates  the  mind.  No  wonder  this  is  classic  ground ;  no 
wonder  this  University  is  the  nursery  of  so  many  veterans 
in  the  republic  of  letters.  Whether  they  prefer  to  contem- 
plate mankind,  explore  Nature  through  the  various  forma- 
tion and  use  of  the  leaf,  or,  leaving  the  garden,  to  ascend  to 
the  heavens,  they  have  within  their  reach  every  assistance 
to  establish  truth  or  confute  error.  Oxford  has  at  present 
fifteen  hundred  students. 

Here  is  the  largest  collection  of  paintings  by  the  great 
masters  which  I  have  ever  seen.  Some  of  the  more  public 
apartments  of  the  colleges  seem  to  revive  the  Italian  and 
Flemish  schools.  Nor  do  the  Dutch  make  an  awkward 
appearance  among  the  more  southern  artists,  although  a 
Dutchman  rarely  considers  his  painting  finished  until  he 
has  introduced  a  dirty  table,  with  pipes,  tobacco,  and  a 
pot  of  Geneva,  together  with  a  fishing-smack  in  a  fresh 
breeze ;  but  if  the  latter  cannot  be  introduced  the  artist  is 
content  to  hang  up  a  large  ham  and  several  pounds  of 
Bologna  sausages  over  the  fireplace. 

At  four  o'clock  we  dined  at  St.  John's  with  Mr.  Portall 


288         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

and  several  other  Fellows  of  that  college.  The  apartment 
was  decent  and  the  furniture  elegant.  The  dinner  was  per- 
haps too  sumptuous  and  gross  for  those  who  are  laboring 
up  the  hill  of  science.  According  to  custom,  or  more  prob- 
ably as  a  compliment  to  the  guests,  dinner  was  scarcely 
ended  when  coffee  was  introduced,  and  immediately  after 
that  supper  was  on  the  table  ;  so  we  did  not  rise  from  din- 
ner, coffee,  and  supper  until  nearly  ten  o'clock.  If  these 
are  usual  habits,  Aristippus  would  be  found  there  much 
oftener  than  Zeno.  During  the  entertainment,  questions 
were  naturally  multiplied  respecting  our  own  country.  The 
company  seemed  delighted  to  hear  that  their  own  great 
men  were  perhaps  more  generally  known  and  read  in  the 
United  States  than  in  England.  It  was  a  romantic  pleas- 
ure to  imagine  the  reverberating  echoes  of  their  own 
labors  in  what  they  were  pleased  to  term  the  wilderness. 
They  were  not  a  little  surprised  when  I  told  them  that 
there  were  no  cities  in  England,  excepting  London,  which 
could  vie  with  New  York,  Philadelphia,  or  even  Boston.  A 
regret  was  expressed  that  we  arc  no  longer  one  people.  I 
laughingly  told  them  that  this  is  their  own  fault,  for  doubt- 
less the  United  States  would  accept  them  as  a  colony. 

After  a  morning  excursion  along  the  banks  of  the  Isis, 
a  stream  made  sacred  by  the  poems  of  Mason  and  Warton, 
we  took  our  leave  of  Mr.  Portall,  who  now  added  those 
cordialities  which  gave  a  double  interest  to  his  warm  recep- 
tion of  us. 

We  proceeded  to  Woodstock,  about  eight  miles  from  Ox- 
ford, to  take  a  view  of  Blenheim  House,  the  seat  of  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough.  On  our  way  thither  we  stopped  at 
a  cottage  to  buy  a  draught  of  beer.  There  was  only  an 
elderly  woman  with  her  daughter  at  home  ;  the  latter  of 
whom  appeared  to  be  ten  years  of  age,  and  was  sitting  at 
a  table  learning  to  write.     The  mother  regarded  us  with- 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  289 

out  the  least  curiosity,  but  seemed  gratified  when  we  ex- 
amined the  little  girl's  writing-book,  and  offered  to  mend 
her  pens  and  set  her  some  new  copies ;  those  from  which 
she  was  writing  being  very  little  better  than  her  own  at- 
tempts. When  we  had  ruled  her  book  through,  and  set 
her  more  than  twenty  copies,  she  was  highly  pleased  with 
the  fairness  of  the  writing,  and  showing  it  to  her  mother, 
said,  "  John  himself  cannot  write  half  so  well."  This  in- 
cident is  not  otherwise  worthy  of  notice  than  by  way  of 
comparison.  This  woman  lived  in  rustic  retirement,  and 
saw  less  of  the  world  than  if  she  lived  in  a  village ;  yet 
though  we  were  travelling  on  foot,  an  unusual  sight  in 
England,  and  presumed  to  enter  a  private  dwelling-house 
with  no  other  view  than  to  buy  a  draught  of  beer,  a  suspi- 
cious circumstance,  this  good  woman  eyed  us  with  no  at- 
tention, asked  us  no  questions,  and  courted  no  knowledge 
of  our  pursuit.  How  different  in  our  own  country  !  In 
such  a  case  the  good  woman  would  first  inquire  whence 
we  came,  and  whither  we  were  going,  and  what  might  be 
our  business.  Then  she  would  contrive  to  find  out  our 
names.  Then,  pausing  a  moment  to  recollect  if  she  knew, 
or  had  ever  heard  of  the  names  before,  she  would  ask  if 
our  grandfathers  or  grandmothers  were  not  related  to  Mr. 
or  Mrs.  Such-a-oue.  This  would  naturally  lead  to  all  the 
good  woman  knew. 

Woodstock  is  doubly  famous  on  account  both  of  the 
past  and  the  present.  Here  Geoffrey  Chaucer  was  born, 
and  here  he  spent  most  of  his  days ;  but  in  vain  I  looked 
for  that  door-stone  which  one  of  our  own  bards  has  so 
happily  imagined :  — 

"  Chaucer  on  his  door-stone  sits  and  sings, 
And  tells  his  merry  tales  of  knights  and  kings." 

Woodstock  is  famous  at  present  for  being  the  seat  of 

19 


290  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  for  gentlemen's  fashion- 
able gloves  and  steel  watch-chains. 

At  the  great  gate  of  the  ample  domain  of  his  Grace 
we  were  received  by  one  of  those  persons,  powdered  for 
the  occasion,  whom  you  so  frequently  find  in  the  service 
of  great  men.  lie  was  an  elderly  man,  who  in  the  course 
of  perhaps  forty  years  had  accumulated  ten  thousand  par- 
ticulars respecting  this  country-scat,  and  which  he  had 
told  ten  thousand  times,  probably  without  the  least  varia- 
tion. Thus :  "  Do,  pray,  gentlemen,  take  a  view  of  the 
river  from  this  artificial  eminence ;  see  how  it  opens  upon 
that  lawn,  how  picturesque  that  little  wilderness  of  trees. 
Now  cast  your  eye  a  little  to  the  right,  and  observe  that 
island,  seemingly  afloat ;  turn  a  step  to  the  left  and  see 
the  monument, — you  have  certainly  heard  of  that  monu- 
ment, how  it  breaks  upon  you  when  it  is  seen  from  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  while  the  trees  seem  suddenly  to 
retire.  Fair  Rosamond  lived  yonder,  —  you  have  certainly 
heard  of  Fair  Rosamond."  In  the  same  manner  he  ran 
over  everything  which  concerned  his  particular  office. 

When  we  came  to  the  bridge  which  is  between  the  pal- 
ace and  the  monument,  I  ventured  to  ask  the  servant  if 
the  stream  over  which  the  bridge  is  built  was  always  as 
wide  as  it  is  at  present.  He  regarded  me  with  a  look  of 
suspicion,  and  replied  in  the  negative.  He  may  have  sup- 
posed that  I  had  seen  the  famous  epigram  on  this  bridge, 
made  in  the  time  of  the  first  Duke  of  Marlborough : 

"  This  mighty  bridge  his  great  ambition  shows. 
The  stream  an  emblem  of  his  bounty  flows." 

The  monument  is  a  proud  pile,  distant  from  the  palace 
about  half  a  mile.  It  celebrates  on  one  side  all  Churchill's 
merits  as  a  soldier ;  and  on  another  side  it  gives  an  ex- 
tract from  the  Act  of  Parliament,  presenting  Blenheim 
House  and  domain  to  John  Churchill,  etc. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         291 

We  now  turned  and  approached  the  mansion.  The  pow- 
dered gentleman  began  to  discourse  on  its  architecture, 
which  he  thought  rather  too  low  and  heavy,  but  added  : 
"  It  is  in  the  usual  sfyle  of  Sir  John  Vanbrugh,"  not  for- 
getting the  epitaph :  — 

"  Lay  heavy  on  him  earth  !  for  he 
Laid  many  a  heavy  load  on  thee." 

At  the  gate  of  the  palace  there  were  five  other  visitors 
waiting  to  view  the  apartments.  Between  the  hours  of 
two  and  four  the  family  retire  in  order  to  accommodate 
strangers. 

There  was  nothing  in  the  palace  worthy  of  particular 
notice  except  a  collection  of  pictures,  many  of  them  by  the 
Italian  and  Flemish  masters,  which  had  been  presented  to 
the  first  Puke  of  Marlborough.  A  few  of  the  paintings 
were  on  a  large  scale,  exhibiting  his  exploits.  Here  is  the 
largest  library,  except  the  Bodleian,  which  I  have  ever 
seen ;  but  the  neglected  appearance  of  the  books  confers 
very  little  honor  upon  their  authors.  The  dining-room  and 
dining-table,  which  was  set  for  dinner,  were  simply  elegant, 
as  was  her  Grace's  bedchamber. 

The  powdered  gentleman  endeavored  to  persuade  us  to 
admire  the  damask  bed-quilt,  the  history  of  which  con- 
sumed some  time.  He  had  now  completed  his  usual  cir- 
cuit, and  having  received  the  fees  which  he  exacted.  —  the 
amount  of  which  would  have  maintained  the  first  Puke  of 
Marlborough  a  week,  —  we  were  dismissed  into  the  hands 
of  the  keeper  of  the  park,  who  finished  his  official  duties 
with  a  like  demand.  Here  I  had  another  opportunity  of 
observing  how  nearly  the  height  of  greatness  is  sometimes 
allied  to  the  lowest  meanness.  I  should  despise  that 
man  in  the  United  States  who  would  condescend  to  raise 
a  revenue  on  the  curiosity  of  his  own  countrymen  or 
from  strangers. 


292  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

This  system  of  exaction  runs  down  from  the  royal  palace 
to  the  waiter  at  the  coffee-house  or  the  more  humble  ordi- 
nary. It  cannot  be  supposed  that  their  Majesties  or  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  lease  out  these  lucrative  offices ;  but 
in  the  lower  ranks  of  society  they  are  objects  of  specula- 
tion. One  of  the  waiters  at  a  London  coffee-house  in- 
formed me  that  to  secure  his  place  he  paid  to  his  master 
weekly  the  sum  of  eight  shillings  sterling!  This  needs 
no  comment.  I  just  add  that  with  a  few  exceptions  you 
find  in  England  but  two  sorts  of  people,  beggars  by  privi- 
lege, and  their  co-relatives,  beggars  from  necessity. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XXXIV. 

London,  July  29. 
You  request  a  sketch  of  the  state  of  society  in  England. 
The  few  hundred  miles  westerly  from  London  which  I  have 
travelled,  will  hardly  warrant  my  speaking  generally ;  be- 
sides society  here  is  so  diversified  that  if  you  speak  gener- 
ally you  are  in  danger  of  falling  into  an  exception,  and  if 
you  would  speak  particularly,  you  must  enter  into  every- 
body's kitchen.  It  is  as  difficult  to  describe  the  state 
of  society  as  it  is  to  delineate  the  characters  of  the  Eng- 
lish ;  for  though  they  are  slaves  to  the  opinions  which  are 
held  by  people  of  their  own  class,  yet  they  object  to  being 
exactly  like  their  neighbors.  Hence  you  would  see  no 
Dutch  fashions  which  last  a  hundred  years,  no  blind  attach- 
ment to  an  idol  Lama,  no  uniform  state  of  indifference  as 
in  Spain.  In  short,  England  is  in  a  continual  state  of 
various  experiment;  everything  seems  inconsistent.  The 
nobleman  frequently  forgets  his  peerage,  and  the  plebeian 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  293 

frequently  imagines  himself  a  nobleman.  You  find  a  sin- 
gular compound  of  liberty  and  slavery,  of  dignity  and  ser- 
vility, some  little  degree  of  equality,  yet  every  one  despising 
those  below  himself.  Not  an  individual  in  the  nation 
knows  the  form  of  government,  or  knows  what  it  may  be 
three  months  hence.  Under  the  mere  form  of  law  and  of 
freedom,  it  is  a  perfect  political  despotism  ;  and  though 
the  people  may  protest  that  it  is  otherwise,  they  have  no  rep- 
resentatives in  Parliament.  The  people,  indeed,  are  fully 
persuaded  they  ought  to  be  free,  and  the  Parliament,  fear- 
ful lest  they  should  resort  to  first  principles,  is  willing  to 
persuade  them  they  are  free.  Hence  while  most  other 
governments  are  supported  by  main  force  or  passive  con- 
sent, the  English  system  is  conducted  by  mutual  conces- 
sion. Except  at  the  beginning  and  conclusion  of  a  war, 
the  king  is  nothing;  yet  he  does  not  lose  his  dignity  in 
time  of  peace,  though  he  may  be  little  more  than  a  King 
Log. 

The  private  history  of  this  people  is  a  subject  equally 
for  the  philosopher  and  the  buffoon.  Their  public  history 
is  a  little  more  consistent  and  offers  more  uniformity, 
though  less  honesty.  You  perceive  the  same  spirit  stream- 
ing down  from  Jack  Cade  and  Wat  Tyler  to  John  Hamp- 
den and  William  Beckford,  though  Cade  and  Tyler  do 
not  rank  in  history  with  the  latter,  merely  because  they 
were  not  gentlemen  of  education.  It  is  true,  however,  that 
the  public  history  of  a  powerful  people  is  no  criterion  of 
their  domestic  happiness.  Like  certain  beautiful  and 
majestic  women,  such  a  people  will  show  best  at  a  dis- 
tance, ami  possibly  be  most  envied  when  least  known. 

The  few  notices  which  I  am  enabled  to  offer  on  the 
present  state  of  society  will  be  partly  drawn  from  my  own 
observation,  and  partly  from  as  good  intelligence  as  I 
have    been   able  to  procure  without  seeming  to  seek   it 


294  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

directly,  for  the  English  have  one  very  great  foible,  —  if 
they  are  ever  disposed  to  deceive,  it  is  in  order  to  gain  a 
stranger's  good  opinion  ;  yet  all  of  a  sudden  they  are  per- 
fectly indifferent  if  you  arc  unwilling  to  admit  their  pre- 
tensions. Ho  that  if  they  do  not  pay,  they  do  not  exact 
deference. 

1  shall  state  a  few  facts  from  which,  with  the  help  of  a 
little  imagination,  you  may  draw  a  passably  correct  infer- 
ence. The  land  in  England  is  either  possessed  by  the 
nobility,  or  monopolized  in  a  great  measure  by  private  in- 
dividuals ;  hence  all  the  miseries  of  the  feudal  system. 
From  this  you  will  readily  conclude  that  the  tenants  are 
in  a  state  of  slavery.  The  fruits  of  industry  do  not  go 
to  cheer  the  domestic  hearth ;  and  although  the  English 
peasantry  are  not  serfs,  their  condition  is  hardly  more  en- 
viable than  that  of  serfs :  every  change  of  master  would 
serve  only  to  render  them  less  respectable  and  more  dis- 
tressed. It  is  for  the  interest  of  the  landlord  to  retain  his 
peasantry  in  a  condition  just  above  absolute  want,  and  to 
discourage  their  removing  from  one  master  to  another. 
Should  they  be  permitted  to  attain  a  competency,  the  land- 
lords would  be  ruined.  The  next  generation  would  lower 
the  price  of  leases ;  the  third  would  be  capable  of  pur- 
chasing the  fee  simple,  and  the  lands,  unless  sold,  would 
lie  uncultivated.  The  contemplation  of  this  state  of  things 
would  burst  the  blood-vessel  of  New  England ;  but  I  am 
only  a  spectator  and  can  write  with  moderation. 

The  aspect  of  commerce  will  afford  another  insight  into 
the  state  of  society.  Rapid  acquisitions  of  fortune,  pomp, 
and  luxury,  attend  commerce  ;  but  in  her  train  she  carries 
misery  in  a  thousand  shapes.  Commerce  is  not  so  odi- 
ous in  monarchies,  where  aristocracy  is  essential ;  bnt  in 
small  republics  it  is  destructive,  and  in  great  republics  it 
is  an  evil,  unless  its  spirit  be  fully  counteracted  by  agri- 


LETTERS  FROM  LOXDOX.         295 

culture.  In  the  scale  of  nations,  England  would  be  noth- 
ing without  commerce;  therefore  if  commerce  be  an  evil, 
it  is  a  necessary  evil.  Besides,  I  think  it  doubtful  if 
the  people  be  not  happier  in  having  the  alternative  of 
gleaning  in  the  fields  of  their  landlords,  or  of  becoming 
the  drudges  of  merchants. 

One  misfortune  allies  itself  to  commerce  without  any 
possible  remedy  ;  it  creates  the  most  odious  of  all  aris- 
tocracies,—  the  unfeeling  and  unprincipled  aristocracy  of 
sudden  wealth.  Then,  destitute  of  every  generous  senti- 
ment, the  man  is  disposed  to  retaliate  on  society  for  all 
those  hardships  which  he  has  suffered  in  his  adversity. 
Commerce  has  the  head  of  a  serpent,  the  arms  of  a  tyrant, 
and  the  feet  of  a  slave.  It  soon  beggars  a  part  of  society 
and  flourishes  in  their  ruin,  while  this  miserable  portion 
is  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  administering  to  their  own 
depression;  for  the  more  wealthy  and  powerful  a  few  in- 
dividuals become,  the  more  weak  and  miserable  are  their 
neighbors.  This  evil,  which  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the 
statesman  to  remedy,  necessarily  flows  from  commerce. 
If  agriculture  produces  a  similar  effect,  the  effect  is  not 
necessary  but  artificial. 

Legislation  cannot  operate  on  commerce  in  the  light  in 
which  I  am  now  considering  it,  but  it  can  operate  on  land. 
The  law  has  only  to  abrogate  the  rights  which  attach  to 
primogeniture,  and  the  face  of  Nature  in  England  would 
immediately  wear  a  different  aspect.  Society  in  this  par- 
ticular would  find  its  level  as  soon  as  the  falling  watcr- 
Bponl  finds  its  level  with  the  ocean.'  Such  a  law,  if  it  were 
made  to  operate  at  a  certain  future  time,  might  take  effect 
without  injuring  any  individual.  Legislation  may  operate 
on  land  in  a  thousand  ways.  The  people  of  Lucca  so  pro- 
portioned their  taxes  to  the  landed  interest  of  each  indi- 
vidual that  when  his  land  exceeded  a  certain  number  of 


296         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

acres,  the  tax  on  the  supernumerary  acres  exceeded  the 
rent.1  But  these  observations  with  respect  to  England  are 
altogether  futile  ;  for  the  abolition  of  the  right  of  primo- 
geniture would  effect  an  entire  change  of  the  English  sys- 
tem. The  nobility  will  never  suffer  this.  "  Quicquid 
enim  Libertati  plebis  caveretur,  id  suis  decedere  opibus 
eredunt."2 

You  will  think  a  country  sufficiently  wretched  under 
these  circumstances ;  but  in  this  country  there  is  another 
evil  flowing  from  commerce,  which  one  cannot  contem- 
plate without  pain.  If  the  English  merchants,  like  the 
Hamburghers  or  the  Dutch,  traded  in  foreign  merchandise, 
or,  like  most  of  the  merchants  of  the  United  States,  in  the 
produce  of  agriculture,  commerce  might  not  operate  so  de- 
plorably. The  English  merchant,  like  the  spider,  literally 
spins  his  web  from  the  bowels  of  his  fellow-subjects.  Eng- 
land is  the  first,  or  among  the  first  manufacturing  coun- 
tries in  Europe ;  consequently  among  the  most  miserable. 
Every  nation  is  miserable  in  proportion  to  her  manufac- 
tories. Commerce  operates  indirectly,  but  manufactories 
directly,  against  equality.  They  are  the  stone  of  Sisyphus, 
and  the  wheel  of  Ixion.  The  labor  of  thousands  goes  to 
enrich  an  individual.  The  daily  bread  of  the  workmen  is 
precarious ;  if  those  employments  to  which  they  are  edu- 
cated fail,  they  are  reduced  to  the  condition  of  your  com- 
mon sort  of  gentlemen  who  have  dissipated  their  property, 
—  they  arc  fit  for  nothing.  A  manufactory  cannot  flourish 
unless  the  laborers  sacrifice  themselves  to  their  employers ; 
for  the  employers   are  as  much  interested    to  retain  the 

1  Suppose  there  should  be  a  law  in  our  own  country  prohibiting  any  citizen 
possessing  more  than  three,  four,  or  five  hundred  acres  of  land,  either  for 
himself  or  to  his  use,  within  the  territory  of  his  own  Commonwealth  >  Such 
a  law  is  already  desirable,  and  might  be  passed  in  prcesenti  to  operate  in 
futuro,  suppose  seven  years,  without  prejudice  to  any  individual. 

'-   Livy,  iii.  55. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  297 

laborers  in  indigence  as  are  the  landlords  to  impoverish 
their  tenants.  Nor  is  this  all ;  the  bodies  of  the  work- 
nun  are  not  less  distorted  than  are  their  souls  contracted. 
Their  children  are  a  lampoon  on  God's  image,  and  carry 
through  life  the  distortions  of  their  parents. 

I  have  now  given  you  the  outlines  of  that  state  of  so- 
ciety which  every  nation  would  present  under  similar  cir- 
cumstances. There  is  nothing  in  England  of  which  I 
am  aware,  that  substantially  counteracts  the  operation  of 
commerce,  manufactures,  and  the  tenure  of  land. 

I  know  that  every  man  has  his  own  mode  of  reasoning, 
and  sees  things  through  a  medium  peculiar  to  himself. 
Some  esteem  that  the  happiest  country  which  shows  the 
charming  sight  of  a  village  peasantry  '  in  the  vicinity  of  a 
magnificent  palace.  Others,  like  the  Chinese  mentioned 
in  a  former  letter,  will  esteem  that  country  happiest  where 
five  and  twenty  servants  are  attached  to  an  individual 
master.  Some  will  consider  that  the  happiest  country 
in  which  the  labor  of  thousands  enriches  a  few.  Others, 
like  Lord  Ellenborough,  reasoning  more  abstractly,  and 
taking  a  more  general  view  of  things,  will  think  that  the 
happiest  country  where  a  golden  inequality 2  prevails.  To 
such,  the  even  surface  and  the  waving  harmony  of  a 
field  of  corn  convey  no  pleasure.  I  differ  from  all  these 
authorities,  and  believe  that  to  be  the  happiest  country 
where  labor  is  most  equally  divided  and  the  decencies  of 
life  are  most  easily  obtained. 

I  know  that  man  is  disposed  to  give  himself  preference 

1  The  English  farmers  all  live  in  a  gentlemanly  style,  much  superior  to 
the  farmers  of  New  England  ;  but  those  who  do  the  offices  of  agriculture  in 
England  are  the  peasants.  Wu  have  no  peasants  in  the  United  States, 
Peasants,  or  hinds,  or  lioors,  are  not  dignified  with  the  name  of  farmers. 

-  At  the  trial  of  Despard,  the  following  charge  which  his  Lordship  alleged 
■gains!  the  prisoner  was  not  the  least  important,  that  "  he  had  conspired 
against  their  most  desirable  state  of  inequality." 


298         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

whenever  he  can ;  and  when  we  look  around  on  society 
we  see  that  this  selfishness  is  in  great  danger  of  being 
increased  beyond  toleration.  We  are  ready  to  exclaim : 
"  This  man  ought  to  be  a  slave,  that  man  was  born  to  be 
subservient,  and  the  third,  even  from  the  dawn  of  reflection, 
was  unprincipled."  But  this  mode  of  reasoning  is  not 
better  than  that  of  the  West  India  planter,  who  complained 
he  had  the  worst  slaves  on  the  island,  and  yet  he  whipped 
them  the  most.  It  is  false  reasoning  to  assert  that,  be- 
cause the  majority  of  any  people  have  lost  the  character  of 
man,  they  were  never  capable  of  being  good  citizens.  In 
the  United  States  human  nature  has  often  retrieved  its 
character  when  England  has  thought  her  subjects  not 
worth  hanging.  In  short,  it  is  the  part  of  most  govern- 
ments to  render  their  subjects  bad ;  then  they  have  a 
pretext  for  rendering  them  still  worse.  The  man  who 
dies  at  Newgate  between  the  hours  of  eight  and  nine  in 
the  morning  little  thinks  that  possibly  his  crimes  and  his 
fate  are  a  necessary  part  of  that  very  system  which  has 
condemned  him. 

A  citizen  of  the  United  States  will  naturally  ask,  "  How 
is  it  possible  for  such  a  state  of  things  to  exist?  What 
connecting  principle  is  there  to  support  a  fabric  so  enor- 
mously disproportionate  ? "  Is  not  the  top  of  a  pyramid 
as  secure  as  the  bottom  ?  Now,  all  civil  society  partakes 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  the  form  of  the  pyramid. 
The  broader  the  foundation  the  more  weight  it  supports, 
and  the  more  secure  is  the  column.  How  can  this  evil  in 
society  be  remedied  ?  It  can  be  remedied  only  by  counter- 
action. In  my  next  letter  1  shall  descend  to  particulars, 
and  perhaps  qualify  in  some  measure  the  impression 
which  this  may  give  you. 

Adieu. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         299 


LETTER  XXXV. 

London,  August  12. 

Among  the  many  millions  who  cover  the  face  of  this  lit- 
tle spot  of  earth,  there  are  many  who  enjoy  all  that  mor- 
tals, circumscribed  only  by  their  own  dispositions,  can  en- 
joy. If  the  Englishman  frequently  fortifies  himself  against 
happiness,  and  sleeps  on  thorns  in  the  midst  of  roses,  it 
is  his  pleasure,  whim,  or  madness.  There  is  certainly 
sufficient  affluence  in  England  to  give  a  stranger  from  a 
country  like  ours  a  lasting  impression.  The  eye  is  not 
continually  turned  on  misery,  nor  the  ear  always  listening 
to  the  tale  of  distress,  nor  is  the  heart  rendered  more  hard 
by  unceasing  calls  to  commiseration. 

The  sedate  countenance,  the  rolling  eyes,  the  careless 
swing  of  the  arms,  and  the  easy  step  prove  that  many  of 
the  middling  class  are  in  easy  circumstances,  and  have  a 
contented  heart ;  while  the  more  guarded  step,  the  more 
costly  though  careless  dress,  and  the  more  erect  head  of 
another  class  show  their  affluence  and  self-complacency. 
The  simplicity  of  the  Quakers  does  not  forbid  them  to 
display  their  general  prosperity  by  the  best  apparel,  which 
owing  to  its  modest  color  docs  not  attract  notice. 

There  is  still  another  class,  who  never  know  a  want 
which  is  not  gratified  too  soon  for  the  pleasure  of  full  frui- 
tion. They  command  the  four  seasons.  If  they  are  not 
happy,  they  are  impious.  Nor  is  this  class  of  subjects 
Bmall,  though  among  nine  millions  it  would  be  difficult 
to  find  them. 

These  are  the  natural  conclusions  of  my  last  letter. 
For  if  a  few  rich  suppose  many  poor,  the  contrary  is  also 


300  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

true,  —  many  poor  suppose  a  few  rich.  It  is  impossible 
that  a  cultivated  country  should  not  be  at  least  partially 
rich,  or  that  an  industrious  people  should  be  universally 
poor.  And  if  such  a  people  in  general  are  necessitous, 
neither  God  nor  Nature  is  to  blame;  for  it  was  never 
meant  that  man  should  suffer  a  double  curse,  —  lose  his 
sweat1  and  then  lose  his  bread. 

The  English  system  is  not  a  little  alleviated  by  the  noble 
generosity  of  thousands.  The  sight  of  the  poor  does  not 
always  offend  the  eye  of  the  affluent.  It  is  the  part  of 
many  to  relent  while  oppressing ;  and  it  frequently  hap- 
pens that  those  who  are  most  interested  in  the  support  of 
certain  principles  are  the  first  to  counteract  their  ten- 
dency. The  merchants  are  celebrated  for  their  mainten- 
ance of  charities  2  founded  on  voluntary  subscription.  The 
highwayman  sometimes  returns  a  part  of  his  plunder. 

The  condition  in  which  most  of  the  people  of  England 
are  born,  ought  to  be  noticed  as  a  further  alleviating  cir- 
cumstance. A  citizen  of  the  United  States  cannot  have  a 
just  view  of  the  state  of  society  in  this  country  unless  he  is 
informed  that  the  feelings  of  the  poor  are  entirely  different 
from  the  feelings  of  the  people  of  the  United  States.  The 
English  lose  the  disposition  to  reflect  even  before  they  ar- 
rive at  the  years  of  reflection.  A  situation,  a  hopeless  situ- 
ation, which  one  might  suppose  would  awaken  their  souls 
to  agony  and  rouse  their  feelings  to  rebellion,  reduces 
them  to  stupidity.  Hence  the  condition  which  in  the 
United  States  would  be  shunned  as  the  greatest  misfor- 
tune, is  in  England  a  state  of  contentment,  and  not  infre- 
quently an   object   of    desire.     This  is  certainly  a   happy 

1  Moderate  labor  is  the  first  dictate  of  Nature.  The  economy  of  man 
sufficiently  proves  this,  —  the  circulation  of  the  blood  and  the  activity  of 
the  mind. 

-  A  multitude  of  charities  and  hospitals  are  a  sure  mark  of  a  nation's 
misery. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         301 

circumstance  since  it  saves  society  from  the  influence  of 
those  persons  who  would  otherwise  become  desperate.  The 
man  who  is  born  heir  to  a  wheelbarrow  seldom  aspires  to 
a  handcart. 

You  will  often  see  at  the  west  end  of  London  one,  two, 
three,  and  even  four  men,  always  more  than  decently  and 
sometimes  elegantly  dressed,  standing  behind  a  carriage 
and  supporting  themselves  with  the  holders.  If  it  rains, 
they  arc  indulged  with  umbrellas.  Many  of  these  men 
are  not  more  than  twenty  or  twenty-five  years  of  age. 
Their  majestic  height,  broad  shoulders,  straight  bodies,  and 
taper  legs  would  have  induced  Hercules  to  enlist  them  in 
some  of  his  expeditions.  These  people  have  the  appearance 
of  the  most  perfect  contentment.  They  are  pleased  with 
their  party-colored  clothes,  and  never  seem  more  happy 
than  when  they  exhibit  themselves  to  the  public.  Xor  is 
this  all ;  they  claim  a  sort  of  distinction,  and  affect  to 
look  down  on  the  more  respectable  man  who  cries  his 
wares. 

Another  numerous  class  spend  their  days  behind  the 
counter.  Such  would  be  more  respectably  employed  in  fel- 
ling wood  in  the  Appalachian  mountains.  They  do  the 
work  of  girls,  and  deprive  them  of  bread.  Such  and  many 
others,  however  contemptible  they  may  appear,  do  not  in- 
crease the  national  misery  otherwise  than  as  drones. 

The  condition  of  the  lowest  class  of  English  women 
attracts  particular  notice.  They  are  habitually  occupied 
in  the  most  laborious  offices.  I  have  seen  a  few  making 
bricks  ;  others,  chiefly  Welsh  women,  carry  yokes  fastened 
to  their  shoulders,  and  from  these  yokes  two  pails  of  milk 
arc  suspended.  Others  act  as  porters,  and  not  a  few  propel 
wheelbarrows,  while  sometimes  the  more  hardy  lade  and 
unlade  vessels,  or  work  in  the  coal  mines.  Sad  offspring 
of  woman,  of  whom  it  is  said, — 


8U2  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

"  Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  heaven  in  her  eye, 
In  every  gesture  dignity  and  love." 

All  this,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be  worse  in  other  parts 
of  Europe;  but  nothing  of  this  was  ever  seen  in  New 
England.  Do  you  think  it  strange  that  in  such  circum- 
stances women  should  wish  to  unsex  themselves  ? 

In  England  the  poor  who  are  sufficiently  honest  to  la- 
bor for  their  daily  bread  do  not  anticipate  a  comfortable 
old  age,  nor  even  look  forward  to  the  time  when  their  daily 
bread  will  not  be  the  price  of  daily  labor.  They  forever 
tarry  on  the  wrong  side  of  Jordan.  If  they  are  sick,  and 
the  laborious  poor  are  most  subject  to  sickness,  they  are 
overwhelmed  by  the  tide  of  adversity  and  become  a  public 
burden.  They  are  so  sensible  of  this  that  many  with  a 
determined  and  abandoned  purpose  give  themselves  up 
to  debauchery. 

In  passing  through  the  suburbs  of  London,  I  had  fre- 
quently observed  a  very  industrious  man  and  woman  mak- 
ing bricks.  I  had  given  them  sixpence 1  and  sometimes  I 
had  stopped  to  talk  with  them.  I  knew  their  constant 
labor  and  the  amount  of  their  daily  pay ;  yet  I  never  heard 
them  complain.  "  Surely,"  thought  I, "  persons  who  are  thus 
contented  to  work  all  the  year  and  lay  up  nothing,  are 
valuable  subjects  and  very  honest  folk."  On  a  Sunday 
morning  not  long  since,  as  I  was  passing  by  an  inn  I 
observed  both  this  man  and  his  wife  lying  on  the  floor  and 
buried  in  forgctfulncss.  In  the  evening  as  I  was  returning, 
I  called  on  the  innkeeper,  to  inquire  if  that  was  their 
usual  Sunday  frolic.  The  man  and  his  wife  were  still 
there,  senseless.  I  asked  the  publican  if  they  had  not 
come  to  their  senses  since  morning.  "  Not  quite,"  said  he, 
"  that  is  the  least  of  their  concern  ;  they  have  recovered 
themselves  two  or  three  times,  just  enough  to  call  for  more 
1  Laborers  expect  a  small  sum  if  you  show  them  the  least  attention. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  303 

liquor."  In  the  course  of  the  week  I  observed  these  people 
at  work  as  usual  and  undertook  to  remonstrate.  Far  from 
being  abashed,  they  hazarded  a  justification ;  and  how  do 
you  think  they  reasoned  ?  They  had  long  endeavored,  they 
said,  to  better  their  circumstances,  but  found  it  altogether 
in  vain,  for  some  unforeseen  accident  had  always  deprived 
them  of  the  earnings  of  weeks  ;  that  the  surgeon '  would 
have  their  money  if  the  publican  did  not,  and  of  the  two, 
they  preferred  to  give  it  to  the  publican.  "But  in  case  of 
sickness  what  would  you  do  ? "  "  Oh,"  said  the  woman, 
repeating  the  first  couplet  of  an  old  song,  — 

"  Hang  sorrow,  and  cast  away  care, 
The  parish  are  bound  to  find  us." 

Another  occurrence,  not  less  to  the  purpose,  made  a 
similar  impression  on  mo.  It  was  at  Bristol,  where  I 
lately  spent  a  few  days.  I  was  purchasing  a  pair  of  boots 
of  a  woman  whose  husband  kept  a  shoe-store.  She  ap- 
peared to  be  a  worthy  woman,  and  I  congratulated  her 
on  her  seemingly  flourishing  circumstances.  "  Ah,  sir," 
said  she,  "  we  should  do  very  well,  if  the  price  of  labor 
was  not  so  high.  Indeed,  sir,  we  are  obliged  to  give 
our  journeymen  so  much  money  that  it  ruins  them,  and 
they  are  drunk  one  half  of  their  time,  and  not  fit  to 
work  the  other  half."  This  was  after  I  had  purchased  the 
boots.  I  have  forgotten  how  much  she  told  me  the  weekly 
pay  of  the  journeymen  amounted  to,  but  I  endeavored  to 
convince  her  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  with  double 
the  wages  to  maintain  a  small  family.  "  Ah,"  replied  the 
good  woman,  "  what  would  they  do  with  a  family  ?  They 
cannot  take  care  of  themselves."  "  But  do  you  think  they 
would  do  better  if   they  had   less   wages?"   "Certainly," 

1  The  physicians  are  not  answerable  for  the  death  of  the  poor ;  that  is  the 
concern  of  the  surgeon  or  the  apothecary. 


304  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

she  replied, "  they  would  then  mind  their  business,  and  not 
get  drunk."  I  said  no  more,  and  she  thought  she  had 
the  best  of  the  argument. 

Now,  ought  we  to  wonder  if  most  of  the  laborers  and 
manufacturers  are  drunkards  ?  Those  who  drink  most  eat 
least;  and  it  costs  them  less  to  get  drunk  than  it  does 
to  fill  their  bellies  with  wholesome  provision. 

Another  instance  is  not  less  illustrative.  I  attended  the 
trials  at  the  Old  Bailey.  A  prisoner  was  tried  on  a  capital 
indictment  and  acquitted.  My  own  heart  bounded  with  joy ; 
but  he  heard  the  verdict  "  Not  guilty  "  pronounced  with  as 
much  indifference  as  I  have  seen  others  receive  the  sentence 
of  death.  Tbis  surprised  me,  for  his  acquittal  was  un- 
expected, and  ought  to  have  excited  his  happiest  feelings. 
He  was  immediately  discharged,  and  I  followed  him  out 
of  court,  and  asked  the  cause  of  his  apparent  unconcern. 
He  replied  with  contemptuous  apathy :  "  How  do  I  know 
that  I  shall  not  soon  have  to  go  through  this  disagree- 
able business  again  ?  "  This  explained  the  secret  why  so 
many  criminals  in  England  die  heroically.  They  foresee 
their  fate,  and  die  their  natural  death. 

Perhaps  in  these  notices  I  have  descended  too  frequently 
to  low  life  ;  but  the  circles  in  which  the  great  and  the  little 
move  are  of  very  different  circumference.  If  one  frequent 
the  company  of  the  great  only,  and  bound  his  views  within 
the  purlieus  of  St.  James's,  doubtless  he  would  describe 
England  as  a  paradise  ;  but  he  would  know  no  more  of  the 
people  than  he  would  of  the  Romans  from  reading  the  lives 
of  Caesar,  Cato,  and  Pompey.1  But  if  he  should  travel  in  the 
Pythagorean  style,  conversing  with  every  man  he  met,  and 
comparing  the  generality  of  Englishmen  with  their  race  of 
horses,  he   would  pronounce  the  condition  of  the  latter 

1  No  one  from  reading  the  history  of  these  men  would  suppose  Rome  con- 
tained five  hundred  inhabitants;  so  easy  is  it  to  overlook  a  million  of  people! 


LETTERS  FROM   LONDON'.  305 

preferable  to  that  of  the  former.  I  speak  this  with 
guarded  caution,  conscious  of  its  reckless  illiberality  if  it 
is  not  true  ;  but  I  believe  no  one  who  has  ever  made  the 
comparison  will  hesitate  to  pronounce  the  English  horses 
better  fed  than  the  English  subjects.1 

A  writer,  Colquhoun.  whom  1  have  quoted  before,  says: 
"  The  commutation  of  perpetual  labor  for  the  price  of  life 
is  thought  too  severe  by  the  legislature.  A  moment's  re- 
flection, however,  will  show  that  in  point  of  manual  labor, 
the  hardship  to  be  imposed  is  no  more  than  every  honest 
artisan  who  works  industriously  for  his  family  must  dur- 
ing the  whole  course  of  his  life  impose  on  himself.  The 
condition  of  a  convict  would  in  some  respects  be  superior, 
inasmuch  as  he  would  have  medical  assistance  and  other 
advantages  tending  to  the  preservation  of  health,  which 
do  not  attach  to  the  lowest  classes  of  the  people."  I  do 
not  coincide  with  all  this,  but  I  think  it  probable  that  had 
Mr.  Bruce  in  Abyssinia,  or  had  Mr.  Park  in  Africa,  discov- 
ered a  people  in  the  same  situation  as  those  of  whom  Mr. 
Colquhoun  speaks,  the  English  would  instantly  open  sub- 
scriptions, and  send  an  expedition  to  the  relief  of  that 
people ;  yes,  even  to  the  source  of  the  Nile. 

I  have  found  it  impossible  to  avoid  several  seeming  in- 
consistencies. The  English  system  is  perhaps  the  most 
intricate  labyrinth  in  which  any  people  ever  found  them- 
selves involved.  Man  is  the  creature  of  the  government 
under  which  he  lives :  from  that  he  takes  his  disposition, 
his  carriage,  his  sentiments,  his  vices  and  virtues.  If  the 
government  be  complicated,  the  motives  from  which  the 
people  act  will  often  appear  extraordinary,  while  in  reality 
the  motives  may  be  founded  in  secret  reason  or  in  absolute 
necessity. 

1  In  a  late  treatise,  Dr.  Buchan  has  given  it  as  his  opinion  that  hread 
is  too  good  for  the  poor,  and  has  offered  a  cheaper  substitute.     I  wonder 
why  the  doctor  did  not  propose  saw-dust. 
20 


306  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

I  have  told  you  the  English  are  exceedingly  humane  and 
charitable,1  yet  the  poor  fare  worse  than  the  horses.  1 
have  remarked  that  the  merchants  are  naturally  well  dis- 
posed, yet  their  commercial  spirit  obliges  them  to  become 
hard  and  oppressive.  They  would  be  among  the  first  to 
support  the  cause  of  liberty  at  home ;  so  they  would  be 
among  the  first  to  support  the  cause  of  slavery  abroad. 
Their  natural  dispositions  are  good,  but  they  are  selfish 
from  principle. 

In  former  letters  I  have  more  than  once  observed  that 
the  English  populace  frequently  display  marks  of  a  free 
people,  while  at  the  same  moment  you  are  ready  to  pro- 
nounce them  slaves.  No  one  can  comprehend  the  cause 
of  these  inconsistencies,  unless  he  takes  an  extensive  view 
of  the  various  operations  of  the  English  system,  which  dis- 
torts the  subject  into  more  shapes  than  the  imagination 
can  figure. 

Would  to  God  I  might  be  heard  across  the  Atlantic ! 
I  would  proclaim  to  my  fellow-citizens  their  proud  pre- 
eminence in  the  ranks  of  civil  society.  I  would  show  them 
the  Constitution  of  England,  fair  in  theory  as  the  divine 
forms  of  Plato ;  in  its  operation  on  the  great  mass  of  sub- 
jects as  different  from  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  as  the  condition  of  the  English  peasant  is  different 
from  that  of  the  Green  Mountain  farmer.  I  would  im- 
press on  them  the  futility  of  a  government  which  affects 

1  The  English  claim  the  merit  of  being  the  most  generous  and  humane 
people  in  the  world.  Their  public  and  private  history  certainly  exhibit  them 
under  very  different  aspects.  If  one  knew  nothing  of  this  people  except 
from  their  public  history,  he  would  suppose  every  Englishman  walked  the 
streets  with  a  club  on  his  shoulder.  The  truth  is,  John  Hull  has  a  foible: 
you  must  appeal  to  his  humanity,  if  you  wish  to  soften  him  ;  otherwise,  !■'■  "ill 
often  resist  the  soundest  reason.  Many  of  our  own  people  are  strongly  pre- 
judiced against  the  English.  This  originated  in  the  American  Revolution  ; 
but  it  is  not  the  English  character  that  is  detestable,  it  is  the  English 
system.  . 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  307 

liberty  on  the  hereditary  principle,  reduces  the  people  to 
y,  and,  like  the  crocodile,  devours  its  own  offspring. 
I  would  conjure  them  by  past  happiness  and  future  pros- 
pects, to  cherish  that  Constitution  which  produces  men, 
which  is  more  powerful  than  despotism  in  restraining  the 
worst,  and  all-efficient  in  exciting  the  best,  tendencies  of 
man.  I  would  say  to  the  citizens  of  the  United  States : 
Be  constant  to  yourselves.  You  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
your  Constitution ;  but  your  Constitution  has  everything 
to  fear  from  you.  Adieu. 


LETTER   XXXVI. 

London,  August  22. 

Erskine,  Gibbs,  and  Garrow  are  the  three  most  powerful 
speakers  in  the  courts  of  law. 

The  person  of  Erskine  is  slender,  his  height  not  exceed- 
ing the  common  size;  his  complexion  is  sallow;  his  hair 
dark  ;  his  face  oval  and  a  little  emaciated ;  the  lower  part 
of  his  forehead  prominent,  yet  gradually  retreating ;  his 
eyebrows  full  and  a  little  knitted  ;  his  eyes  are  hazel,  open, 
and  conciliatory  ;  his  nose  is  narrow  between  the  eyes,  yet 
neither  too  large  nor  too  small ;  his  mouth  is  gently  closed, 
seeming  ready  to  await  the  dictates  of  his  tongue,  yet  it  is 
not  large  enough  to  give  his  eloquence  its  just  tone  ;  his 
lips  are  thin,  meeting  in  union,  and  when  irritated  inclin- 
ing to  retreat  rather  than  to  project;  his  chin  is  gently 
retreating,  and  in  conjunction  with  his  forehead  bespeaks 
the  man, —  firm  yet  modest,  positive  yet  ingenuous. 

When  in  a  state  of  repose  his  countenance  is  prepos- 
sessing ;  but  when  he  speaks  his   gestures  are    rhetoric, 


308  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

his  looks  persuasion,  his  voice  eloquence.  In  the  glow  of 
animation  he  is  commanding  ;  but  in  the  moment  of  passion, 
when  self-convinced,  he  is  pure  intelligence.  Disdaining 
every  by-road  to  conviction,  he  strips  the  cause  of  all 
extraneous  circumstances,  and  places  it  on  its  own  posi- 
tion, true  to  nature ;  paints  it  visibly  to  the  eye,  and  buries 
in  oblivion  every  interfering  particular.  Both  judge  and 
jury  are  prostrate  in  chains.  It  is  the  contention  of  prin- 
ciple :  no  matter  whose  or  what  the  interest,  or  if  heaven 
were  concerned,  it  is  still  the  contention  of  principle.  Of 
all  causes  which  could  arise,  the  present  seems  to  involve 
the  deepest  consequences.  There  is  no  distinction  now  be- 
tween the  great  and  the  little  ;  everything  but  the  point  in 
question  is  forgotten,  —  Erskinc  and  his  cause  are  sovereign 
over  all.  Now  flows  the  fountain  of  justice,  now  the  re- 
cesses of  iniquity  are  explored,  now  the  deep  foundations 
of  fraud  are  broken  up.  His  eloquence  becomes  a  torrent 
which  sweeps  away  every  defence  which  art  or  subterfuge 
had  raised.  No  longer  has  the  law  a  single  hard  feature, 
no  perplexities,  no  uncertainties,  no  idle  evasions  !  Satur- 
nian  Jove  descends  with  his  equal  scales,  cunning  retires 
in  shame,  oppression  lets  go  its  victim,  and  innocence  is 
seated  on  the  throne  of  equity.  At  length,  by  degrees 
Erskine  himself  is  forgotten,  and  forgets  himself  ;  he  rises 
to  an  effort  not  his  own,  and  sinks  under  superior  feelings, 
while  the  judge  and  the  jury  already  convinced  even  to 
enthusiasm,  impatiently  withhold  the  verdict. 

0  sacred  tribunal !  guarded  in  the  spotless  ermine  of 
justice.  0  hallowed  walls !  where  party  spirit  never 
enters,  where  the  oppressed  breathe  an  ethereal  element. 
0  glorious  institution  !  which  chains  the  passions  of  men, 
and  checks  the  exactions  of  self-interest  !  0  venerable 
judges  !  whose  sacred  office  knows  no  bias,  whose  sym- 
pathy is  never  wakened  but  in  the  cause  of  humanity. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  309 

I  know  not  with  whom  of  the  orators  of  antiquity  to 
compare  Erskine.  He  possesses  neither  the  voice,  nerve, 
nor  vehemence  of  Demosthenes,  but  he  has  more  cor- 
diality. The  audience  of  Demosthenes  is  driven,  you  see 
the  goad;  that  of  Erskine  follows  its  leader.  While  the 
one  shows  both  of  his  hands  clinched,  you  see  the  arms  of 
the  other  extended.  Demosthenes  stamps  with  his  feet, 
Erskine  folds  his  arms ;  while  the  one  assumes  a  look  of 
defiance,  the  other  pauses  a  moment  with  open  eyes.  Ers- 
kine has  all  the  grace  and  elegance  of  Tully,  and,  like 
Tully,  is  anxious  to  round  all  the  angular  points  of  his 
cause  in  a  qualifying  exordium.  He  has  less  art,  is  more 
rapid,  more  earnest,  more  original  than  Tully  ;  and  if  the 
periods  of  the  Roman  are  more  majestic  than  those  of 
Erskine,  it  is  the  fault  of  the  English  language.  Erskine 
has  not  Tolly's  reach  of  learning,  though  I  suspect  that  in 
case  of  a  surprise  Erskine's  readiness  would  extricate  him, 
while  the  Roman  would  sink  under  the  weight  of  his  own 
erudition.  Erskine  has  not  the  confidence  nor  the  gran- 
deur of  Pericles,  but  he  attaches  you  more  quickly. 
Pericles  is  willing  to  impose  on  you  ;  Erskine's  first  con- 
cern is  to  make  friends.  While  Pericles  is  throwing  the 
gauntlet,  Erskine  is  on  the  defensive,  watching  the 
moment  of  doubt  or  indifference.  The  one  stands  erect, 
imperative,  and  will  take  nothing  which  he  cannot  extort ; 
the  other  is  submissive,  inclines  forward,  and  appeals  to 
impartial  justice. 

Erskine  will  suffer  nothing  on  being  examined  as  a  man  : 
his  profession  has  not  defaced  his  original  features  of 
greatness.  When  engaged  in  a  weak  or  unjust  cause,  he 
never  sacrifices  his  hardihood  of  honor  to  the  views  of  his 
client.  He  says  all  that  ought  to  be  said  ;  yet  he  never 
compromises  his  dignity  by  urging  a  corrupt  principle. 
You  see  nothing  of  the  attorney  ;  Erskine  is  a  counsellor. 


310  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

You  see  no  attempt  to  take  petty  advantages  ;  Erskine  is  a 
gentleman. 

By  turns  he  is  serious  or  witty,  and  when  the  occasion 
offers  and  he  is  disposed  to  descend,  like  Roscius,  he  can 
turn  off  a  case  by  pantomime.  Among  the  thousand 
actions  which  are  presented  to  him,  some  on  trial  appear 
to  have  originated  in  mirth,  and  others  in  impudence  ;  this 
Proteus  is  ready  in  a  moment  to  throw  off  the  professional 
buskin  and  tread  the  sock. 

I  have  followed  Erskine  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
forming  to  my  mind  the  attitude  of  a  man  treading  em- 
pires under  his  feet,  and  holding  in  his  hands  the  destinies 
of  the  world.  If,  in  a  petty  court  of  law,  he  could  move 
heaven  in  behalf  of  a  poor  orphan  or  an  oppressed  widow, 
surely  in  presence  of  the  British  Parliament,  when  the 
fate  of  nations  is  depending,  the  front  of  opposition  must 
cower  beneath  his  frown,  or  follow  in  the  wake  of  his 
triumphant  progress.  But  the  moment  he  enters  Parlia- 
ment he  disappears.  He  is  only  one  among  five  hundred. 
An  Arab  would  never  kill  Erskine,  unless  he  caught  the 
counsellor  in  his  gown,  band,  and  wig;1  with  these  he 
seems  to  put  off  his  whole  virtue.  As  a  statesman,  Erskine 
is  nothing.  I  do  not  say  he  is  a  great  man  in  a  little  room; 
but  when  he  is  addressing  twelve  men  in  a  court  of  law, 
and  when  in  the  British  Parliament  he  is  addressing  the 
speaker  in  behalf  of  the  nation,  he  is  not  the  same  man. 
He  begins,  indeed,  on  a  broad  foundation,  but  he  ascends 
like  a  pyramid,  and  either  produces  an  abortion  or  attains 
to  a  point,  and  terminates  where  he  should  have  begun. 
In  Parliament  he  shows  nothing  of  that  copious  precision, 
that  ascending  order,  that  captivating  fluency,  that  earnest 
conviction  which  at  the  bar  stamp  him  Erskine.     In  Par- 

1  When  in  court,  the  English  lawyers  are  dressed  in  a  hlack  gown,  a  hand, 
and  a  tie  wig. 


LETTERS  FKOM  LONDON.  311 

liaraent  he  labors  with  a  harrow  through  the  impediments 
of  politics ;  now  it  catches  hold  of  Pitt,  then  it  interferes 
with  a  straggling  limb  of  Hawkesbury,  now  it  tears  away 
the  skirts  of  Addiugton,  presently  it  is  to  be  lifted  over 
the  body  of  Windham.  He  concludes,  and  the  impression 
which  he  had  made  is  quickly  effaced. 

Adieu. 


LETTER   XXXVII. 

London,  August  28. 

The  person  of  Gibbs  is  diminutive,  his  appearance  con- 
temptible ;  he  has  not  a  single  strong  mark  of  character, 
except  a  sagacious  eye.  There  is  nothing  engaging  in  his 
looks ;  he  repels  rather  than  attracts,  but  all  his  defects 
are  forgotten  the  moment  he  begins  to  speak.  Doubtless 
Gibbs  is  the  greatest  lawyer  in  England.  In  a  common 
case  he  is  inferior  to  Erskine  and  Garrow ;  but  in  a  cause 
which  involves  first  principles,  where  there  is  no  room  for 
the  trappings  of  eloquence,  where  passion  is  vain,  where 
don  weakens,  where  embellishment  begets  suspicion, 
he  commands  admiration,  pens  up  Erskine  in  a  corner,  and 
not  infrequently  makes  him  stammer. 

In  addressing  a  jury  Gibbs  is  second,  but  second  only 
tn  Krskine  and  Garrow.  He  neither  understands  human 
nature  so  well  as  they  do,  nor  can  he  sift  character,  nor 
can  he  insinuate  himself  and  take  advantage  of  a  fortunate 
moment.  He  has  no  conception  of  the  extremes  of  virtue 
and  vice  ;  he  measures  everything  with  his  compasses,  but 
he  is  sure  of  his  dimensions.  You  make  it  merely  a  case 
of  conscience  to  agree  with  him,  yet  he  never  lets  you  go 
until  he  has  secured  you,  though  he  never  thanks  you  for 


312  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

a  verdict,  well  knowing  you  would  not  have  given  it  had 
he  not  compelled  you.  Sometimes,  though  rarely,  he  at- 
tains to  eloquence  not  interior  to  Erskine's,  and  then  he 
is  sure  of  his  cause,  for  what  can  resist  the  arguments  of 
Gibbs,  backed  with  the  eloquence  of  Erskiue  ?  Yet  his 
eloquence  is  not  of  the  expansive  order,  because  it  is  not 
the  eloquence  of  the  heart,  but  that  of  the  head.  He  can- 
not look  all  the  jury  in  the  face  at  the  same  moment ;  he 
does  not  regard  the  jury  as  one  man ;  he  feels  as  though 
he  had  twelve  persons  to  convince,  —  in  this  respect  differ- 
ing from  Erskine,  who  addresses  the  whole  twelve,  and 
persuades  each  individual  that  he  is  solicitous  to  convince 
him  in  particular. 

Gibbs  knows  that  human  nature  varies  in  different  men  ; 
Erskine  finds  the  tie  of  connection  which  governs  the 
whole.  While  the  one  is  laboring  his  point,  the  other  has 
already  touched  you  with  his  wand.  Like  his  countrymen, 
Gibbs  effects  by  main  force  all  that  he  does  effect.  Erskine 
and  Garrow  are  exulting  on  the  top  of  the  fortification, 
while  Gibbs  is  mining  the  foundation ;  and  before  Gibbs 
enters  the  city  it  is  already  sacked. 

I  have  spoken  of  these  great  men  as  addressing  a  jury  ; 
in  addressing  the  judges,  before  whom  nothing  but  law  and 
argument  can  avail  or  will  be  heard,  before  whom  the  most 
eloquent  might  as  well  speak  in  the  dark,  Gibbs  rises  pre- 
eminent. He  assumes  nothing,  yet  his  very  deportment 
bespeaks  a  man  sure  of  himself,  who  has  sounded  his  posi- 
tion and  is  able  to  grasp  the  whole  common  law  of  England. 
When  Gibbs  addresses  the  judges,  Garrow  is  out  of  court, 
or  sits  with  his  calimanco  bag  tied  up,  and  Erskine,  his 
antagonist,  fearful  of  a  surprise,  is  as  anxious  and  as  busy 
as  a  general  on  the  field  of  battle. 

The  deeper  the  case,  the  more  perplexed,  the  more  orig- 
inal and  involved  in  law  learning,  the  more  firm  is  Gibbs 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  313 

in  his  position ;  he  is  secure  in  himself  and  less  cautious  of 
his  competitor.  He  rises  with  a  solemnity  and  moderation 
which  impress  every  one.  His  voice  is  strong  and  his  utter- 
ance is  slow  and  well  articulated,  perfectly  suited  to  a  man 
who  in  pursuit  of  the  light  of  reason  is  willing  that  every 
word  should  be  judged  by  the  rules  of  precision.  Without 
the  appearance  of  arrangement  he  has  all  the  elegance  of 
method.  He  is  luminous ;  you  see  his  path  through  the 
wilderness  of  the  law,  while  in  his  rear  follows  a  stream  of 
connected  discourse  and  reasoning.  Thus  securing  all  the 
interest  of  historical  order  and  logical  process,  he  gradually 
convinces  until  he  challenges  all  he  demanded. 

The  gestures  of  Gibbs  arc  moderate,  his  countenance  is 
never  impassioned ;  unlike  Erskine,  he  is  never  agitated. 
He  uses  but  one  arm,  and  that  never  in  a  waving  line ; 
his  person  is  scarcely  big  enough  to  wield  the  weight  of 
his  mind.  He  uses  little  illustration,  depending  on  his 
last  argument  to  illustrate  the  former.  He  never  conde- 
scends to  be  witty,  despises  embellishment,  would  trample 
on  all  the  flowers  of  rhetoric,  displays  no  learning  foreign 
to  the  case,  and  indulges  in  no  sally,  except  a  strong  and 
overwhelming  irony,  correspondent  with  the  strength  of  his 
reasoning. 

In  these  moments  Erskine's  self  retires  before  him  like 
the  shadow  which  you  have  sometimes  seen  in  a  cloudy  day 
retreating  over  the  hills  before  the  invading  presence  of  the 
sun.  But  in  his  turn  Erskine  rallies  himself,  and  easily 
persuades  all  that,  except  in  that  particular  case,  he  is  su- 
perior  to  Gibbs,  and  though  vanquished,  is  prepared  for 
another  combat. 

Doubtless  the  judges,  as  judges,  have  most  reverence  for 
Gibbs ;  it  is  evident  they  look  up  to  him  with  veneration, 
and  are  disposed  to  suspect  their  own  judgment  rather 
than  his.     This  man,  a  plebeian,  is  a  candidate  for  noth- 


314         LETTEBS  FROM  LONDON. 

ing ;  while  Erskinc,  the  son  of  an  Earl,  is  a  candidate  for 
the  Lord  High  Chancellorship.  I  do  not  say  this  in  disre- 
pect  to  Erskine,  who  honors  England  more  than  England 
can  ever  honor  him.  Adieu. 


LETTER  XXXVIII. 

London,  September  5. 

Garrow  is  not  a  lawyer,  nor  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
word,  is  he  an  orator ;  yet  as  an  orator  he  is  not  less  extra- 
ordinary than  Erskine  or  Gibbs.  His  person  is  respectable, 
rather  rawboned  ;  his  face  is  square  and  flat ;  his  complexion 
a  dry,  brown  red  ;  his  forehead  is  high,  and  appears  higher 
through  a  total  defect  of  eyebrows ;  his  chin  is  triangular 
and  a  little  prominent. 

If  I  have  been  correctly  informed,  the  history  of  Garrow 
is  singular.  He  is  the  son  of  a  country  clergyman,  and  in 
his  childhood  was  considered  a  dead  weigbt  on  society. 
Until  the  age  of  thirteen  he  was  a  cow-boy ;  and  his  intel- 
lect promised  nothing.  About  that  period,  his  father  sent 
him,  at  a  venture,  to  London.  What  occupation  he  fol- 
lowed I  know  not ;  but  he  found  his  way  at  length  to 
the  evening  debating  societies,  where  he  soon  showed  a 
wonderful  readiness  in  reply,  and  a  copious  flow  of  origi- 
nal matter,  all  the  more  remarkable  in  view  of  his  lack  of 
education. 

I  suspect  that  Garrow  entered  on  the  study  of  the  law 
under  unfavorable  circumstances,  for  he  began  at  the  Old 
Bailey.  Hence  if  human  nature  wore  but  one  aspect,  Gar- 
row would  naturally  paint  it  black.  If  they  have  ability, 
most  men  in  the  profession  of  law  attain  eminence  by 
degrees.     A  lawyer  never  appears  full  grown  at  once,  like 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  315 

an  air-balloon  or  a  newly  created  lord.  He  is  obliged  to 
arrive  at  certainty  through  the  labyrinths  of  uncertainty. 
Although  Garrow  became  famous  as  soon  as  he  showed 
himself,  yet  bis  celebrity  did  not  depend  on  bis  acquisitions. 

As  counsellor  for  felons1  at  the  Old  Bailey,  Garrow  was 
necessarily  a  spectator  of  human  depravity  from  its  first 
moment  of  lax  principle  to  the  last  degree  of  abandoned 
practice.  The  code  of  criminal  law  in  this  country  is  so 
disproportioned,  so  barbarous,  so  unnatural,  that  Garrow 
might  frequently  deem  it  a  matter  of  principle  to  save 
the  accused.  Hence  the  more  desperate  the  situation  of 
the  prisoner,  the  more  severely  would  Garrow  tax  his 
own  ingenuity. 

I  will  give  you  two  instances,  the  latter  of  which  I  heard 
Garrow  relate  in  the  King's  Bench.  The  first  occurred  in 
a  criminal  action,  the  other  in  a  civil. 

Some  years  ago,  a  servant  was  indicted  for  robbing  his 
master.  The  penalty  in  this  case  is  death,  and  in  general 
justice  is  inexorable.  The  prisoner  had  no  hope  except  in 
Garrow.  He  had  robbed  his  master  of  several  guineas  ; 
they  were  all  found  on  his  person,  and,  to  render  his 
case  desperate,  they  had  been  marked,  and  the  master 
was  ready  to  attest  their  identity.  Garrow  asked  the 
prisoner  if  he  could  mark  another  guinea  in  a  similar 
manner.  The  prisoner  marked  one,  and  Garrow  told  him 
he  might  begin  to  repent,  for  his  acquittal  could  not 
be  assured. 

On  the  day  of  trial,  just  before  the  master  of  the  aceused 
was  about  to  swear  to  the  guineas,  Garrow  desired  to 
look  at  them,  and  cautioning  the  witness  not  to  swear  to 
money,  as  it  was  so  frequently  marked,  requested  the  spec- 

1  I  have  already  stated,  that  a  felon  is  not  allowed  counsel  to  address  the 
jury  in  his  hehalf ;  but  he  is  allowed  counsel  to  cross-examine  the  witnesses, 
and  to  take  every  possible  advantage  which  may  offer. 


316  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

tators  if  they  had  any  guineas  in  their  pockets,  to  lend 
them  to  him.  In  a  moment  he  had  a  handful, —  it  was 
so  contrived.  He  shuffled  them  together,  and  presenting 
them  to  the  witness  desired  him  to  select  his  own.  The 
witness  hesitated,  and  being  pressed  by  Garrow,  did  not 
venture  to  identify.  The  prisoner  was  acquitted.  It  ap- 
peared afterward  that  Garrow  in  presenting  the  handful  of 
guineas  had  withholden  those  which  had  been  stolen. 

The  other  instance  was  of  late  occurrence.  A  will  sus- 
pected to  be  a  forgery  was  set  up.  One  of  the  subscrib- 
ing witnesses,  in  giving  his  evidence,  stated  that  an 
English  shilling  was  placed  under  the  seal.  The  judge 
called  for  the  will,  broke  the  seal,  and  found  the  shilling. 
In  Garrow's  opinion  this  was  not  conclusive ;  he  desired 
to  look  at  the  shilling.  Fortunately,  it  was  not  worn 
so  smooth  but  that  the  date  might  be  discerned  ;  by 
which  it  appeared  that  the  shilling  was  coined  long  after 
the  will  purported  to  have  been  made. 

While  practising  at  the  Old  Bailey,  Garrow  was  an  im- 
pediment to  justice.  The  only  remedy  was  to  make  him 
a  king's  counsellor.  This  at  once  placed  him  in  the  King's 
Bench,  beside  Erskine,  Gibbs,  Dallas,  and  Park.  The  saga- 
city which  distinguished  him  in  criminal  cases,  followed 
him  to  the  more  ample  field  of  litigation.  There,  amidst 
the  intricacies  of  self-interest,  fraud,  and  cunning,  he  di- 
vests the  cause  of  every  assumed  color,  or  as  readily  ex- 
tricates suffering  innocence  from  the  fangs  of  the  op- 
pressor. His  wonderful  knowledge  of  human  nature  is 
only  equalled  by  his  facility  of  entering  into  the  feelings, 
views,  and  conduct  of  mankind  under  all  circumstances. 
He  is  a  perfect  master  of  the  theory  of  the  probabilities  of 
human  conduct,  while  the  variety  of  causes  at  the  Guild- 
hall gives  him  a  view  as  extensive  and  as  broad  as  the  re- 
lations of   society.     He  is  a  metaphysician,  and  what    is 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  317 

more,  knows  how  to  reduce  his  metaphysics  to  common 
sense  and  to  the  purposes  of  common  life.  No  casuist 
could  enter  more  sagaciously  into  the  theory  of  the  will, 
motive,  and  the  degree  of  necessity ;  no  other  could  so 
palpably  distinguish  between  the  necessary,  the  indifferent, 
and    the    perverse   of   human   action. 

Garrow's  chief  excellence  consists  in  impressing  on  the 
jury  a  full  and  distinct  apprehension  of  the  merits  of  the 
case.  It  is  the  fault  of  some  great  lawyers  to  enter  too 
deeply  into  their  causes ;  they  injure  them  by  attempt- 
ing to  give  them  a  false  importance  before  the  jury.  Gar- 
row,  on  the  contrary,  comprehends  with  a  glance  just  how 
much  the  case  will  bear,  and  to  what  length  he  may  pre- 
sume on  the  jury  ;  then,  after  a  clear  and  precise  opening 
of  the  cause,  in  which  is  contained  the  real  outlines 
which  he  knows  his  evidence  will  support,  he  rises  in 
a  moment  to  the  middle  style  of  eloquence,  and  with  a 
fluency  surpassing  Erskine's,  turns  his  back  on  the  judge, 
and  worms  himself  into  the  common  sense  of  the  jury, 
with  whom  he  never  hazards  a  dubious  point  by  urging  it 
beyond  the  fair  bounds  of  plausibility.  Here  he  takes  his 
stand  ;  by  resting  his  case  on  the  jury's  own  competency, 
he  pays  them  deference,  and  engages  their  self-love,  while 
without  any  considerable  effort  on  their  part,  they  fol- 
low him  at  their  ease.  Never  does  lie,  like  Gibbs  and 
Erskine,  address  himself  partly  to  the  judge  and  partly  to 
the  jury ;  but  forgetful  of  all  the  solemnities  of  his  pro- 
fession, he  seems  to  leap  over  the  bar  into  the  midst 
of  the  jury,  his  fellows.  With  him,  a  sagacious  pointer, 
at  their  head,  they  are  ready  to  follow  from  White  Chapel 
to  Hyde  Park. 

Nothing  great,  no  sublime  apostrophes,  no  appeal  to 
the  passions,  no  distracting  digressions,  no  learning,  not 
even  law  learning,  trouble  the   pure  stream   of  Garrow's 


318  LETTERS   FROM  LONDON7. 

eloquence.  With  extraordinary  rapidity  he  touches  on  all 
the  important  points,  throwing  out  with  one  hand  whatever 
is  immaterial,  and  establishing  with  the  other  whatever  is 
substantial,  thus  laying  the  marrow  of  the  cause  before 
the  jury ;  and  lest  the  cause  should  be  obscured  with  cir- 
cumlocution, when  he  has  said  all  that  they  can  bear,  he 
ends  in  apparent  exhaustion. 

Garrow  attaches  more  surely  than  Erskine  himself. 
The  latter  sometimes  strains  the  feelings  too  high  ;  amidst 
a  world  of  matter,  he  is  in  danger  of  losing  sight  of  the 
question.  Garrow  never  yet  wantoned  to  the  prejudice  of 
his  client.  He  never  ascends  like  the  eagle  to  the  sun,  but 
he  never  stops  his  pursuit  in  order  to  chase  butterflies. 
Though  his  style  of  speaking  and  tone  of  voice  are  always 
the  same,  yet  his  penetration  is  so  subtle  and  his  conclu- 
sions so  natural  that  he  succeeds  in  convincing  the  jury  he 
is  only  elucidating  their  own  sentiments.  Thus  whatever 
he  gains  instantly  becomes  a  part  of  the  verdict,  no 
matter  whether  the  verdict  be  right  or  wrong,  —  that  is  the 
judge's  concern,  not  his. 

Doubtless  Garrow  is  the  first  man  at  the  bar,  when  the 
action  is  involved  in  dry  matter  of  fact:  for  then,  fearless 
of  being  put  down  by  law  authorities,  he  can  give  full 
play  to  his  own  ingenuity ;  and  as  no  man  ever  had  more 
producible  common  sense,  no  man  was  ever  so  capable  of 
applying  it  well.  No  man  ever  had  a  clearer  mind,  which, 
though  not  deep,  embraces  the  extremes  of  sagacity,  fore- 
sight, and  probability.  He  is  like  the  beds  of  those  rivers, 
of  which,  though  you  can  see  to  the  bottom,  you  see  noth- 
ing but  golden  sands. 

To  distinguish  between  Gibbs,  Garrow,  and  Erskine,  I 
should  say  Gibbs  is  a  man  of  a  powerful  mind,  Garrow 
an  extraordinary  man,  and  Erskine  a  man  of  genius.  To 
compare  them  with  our  New  England  lawyers,  1  should 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.         319 

say  Dexter  was  the  most  like  Gibbs,  Otis  most  like  Garrow, 
and  Erskine  —  I  know  not  with  whom  to  compare  him; 
he  is  a  partial  assemblage  of  all  the  others. 

Adieu. 


LETTER  XXXIX. 

London,  September  15. 

Ox  the  subject  of  the  English  orators  I  should  prefer 
to  be  silent,  rather  than  to  confine  myself  within  the 
bounds  of  a  letter.  However,  I  will  attempt  a  sketch  of 
the  principal  speakers. 

From  the  predominant  class  of  contending  men  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  I  might  select  Pitt,  Fox,  Windham, 
Sheridan,  Wilbcrforce,  Grey,  Ticrney,  Castlereagh,  Hawkes- 
bury,  Corry,  and  Addington. 

The  characters  of  these  men,  as  orators,  are  well  known 
in  the  United  States,  and  particularly  so  to  you.  I  shall, 
therefore,  confine  myself  to  the  first  three,  —  Pitt,  Fox,  and 
"Windham.  Sheridan  1  would  have  included,  but  I  have 
heard  him  speak  only  twice,  and  then  he  left  no  impres- 
sion. He  has  taken  no  part  in  any  important  debate 
which  I  have  attended,  but  has  kept  his  seat,  —  silent, 
reserved,  looking  earnestly  toward  the  treasury  bench, 
and  seemingly  dubious  of  his  former  principles,  which 
have  left  him  as  poor  as  his  old  client  the  Nabob  of 
Arcot. 

Mr.  Pitt  still  rises  with  an  ease,  composure,  and  assur- 
ance, indicative  of  former  influence,  while  the  House,  con- 
scious of  his  presence,  are  disposed  to  give  him  all  that 
attention  as  a  member  which  he  once  commanded  as  a 
minister.     And   though   at   present    he  is  a  fallen  states- 


320  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

man,  he  sustains  a  character  none  the  less  ascendant  as 
a  man ;  so  that  his  enemies  are  not  willing  to  approach 
niglicr  plain  Mr.  Pitt  than  they  did  the  once  arbiter  of 
the  kingdom. 

The  station  which  Mr.  Pitt  has  supported  so  long  has 
given  his  eloquence  a  peculiar  turn,  and  even  rendered  his 
character  ostensibly  cold  and  hard.  The  political  calcu- 
lator, always  in  search  of  expedients,  habitually  regards 
mankind  mechanically,  and  sooner  or  later  becomes  impen- 
etrable to  the  first  dictates  of  nature,  and  sublimely  over- 
looks every  obstacle  which  might  impede  his  course.  A 
prime  minister  of  Great  Britain,  if  he  continues  long  in 
office,  must  of  necessity  familiarize  himself  with  deeds 
which  in  their  extensive  consequences  render  all  the  crimes 
of  the  decalogue  comparatively  harmless.  In  fact,  Mr.  Pitt's 
eloquence  shows  a  frigid,  palliating,  defensive,  yet  positive 
character.  It  has  ever  been  sufficient  for  him  to  maintain 
his  ground  :  not  to  be  driven  from  his  post  has  been  to 
gain  the  victory.  At  this  day,  he  addresses  the  Speaker  as 
though  the  conflict  were  still  between  himself  and  his  great 
antagonist,  Fox,  while  Addington  is  forgotten,  and  forgets 
that  he  is  minister. 

Had  Mr.  Pitt  labored  all  his  days  in  the  opposition,  he 
would  have  been  a  much  greater  orator  and  a  much  nobler 
man.  Ever  on  the  defensive,  he  has  naturally  fallen  into 
a  confined  uniformity,  which  has  seldom  permitted  him  to 
take  excursion  beyond  the  tedious  business  of  office ;  at  the 
same  time  the  system  of  government,  forcing  the  current 
of  business  to  mingle  itself  with  the  sighs,  tears,  and  groans 
of  the  nation,  has  rendered  him  officially  obnoxious  to  the 
people,  and  afforded  his  parliamentary  enemies  the  fairest 
provocations  for  attack.  Once,  indeed,  Mr.  Pitt  found 
himself  on  the  side  of  humanity,  and  shone  conspicuously 
among  Fox,  Burke,  Wilberforce,  and  others.     But,  singular 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  321 

as  it  may  appear,  he  then,  and  then  only,  found  himself  in 
a  minority.  I  speak  of  the  famous  motion  of  Wilberforce 
for  the  abolition  of  the  slave  trade. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  members  of  the  opposi- 
tion have  every  advantage,  not  only  of  popular  respect,  but 
of  humanity,  and  consequently  of  oratory  ;  for  true  elo- 
quence must  be  founded  on  the  honest  feelings  of  nature. 
But  a  prime  minister  has  already  closed  every  pore  to  the 
glow  of  humanity,  before  he  ventures  to  open  the  budget.1 
Hence  he  is  cut  off  from  the  most  fruitful  source  of  elo- 
quence. Xo  appeal  to  the  passions,  no  earnest  supplica- 
tion, no  sympathy  with  distress,  no  palpitation  of  the  heart, 
render  him  dear  to  the  people  and  soften  his  exactions. 
Impelled  by  inexorable  necessity,  he  comes  into  the  House, 
and  knowing  the  final  result  of  the  question,  boldly  exposes 
himself  to  the  whole  artillery  of  the  opposition.  But  all 
this  confidence  in  his  followers  does  not  suffer  him  to  re- 
mit the  severest  exercise  of  his  own  powers  in  order  to 
give  plausibility  to  his  most  suspicious  measures.  Hence 
it  may  easily  be  imagined  that  before  any  important 
step  is  taken,  the  treasury  bench  have  already  been  sum- 
moned to  weigh  every  difficulty  which  the  opposition  might 
possibly  raise.  Thus  such  men  as  Fox,  Sheridan,  and  Grey 
have  the  honor  of  being  answered  twice.  But  Fox  is  so 
various,  rapid,  and  overwhelming,  that  he  frequently  loses 
the  win ile  ministry,  who,  long  since  ripe  for  the  question, 
are  happy  to  be  released  by  the  last  resort  of  the  minister, 
—  I  mean  the  vote  of  the  majority. 

From  these  observations  you  will  easily  collect  what  the 
style  of  Pitt  and  of  Fox  will  probably  be  ;  still,  each  of 
them  preserves  a  distinct  character. 

1  "  Budget : "  a  political  cant  word  for  the  yearly  estimate  of  expenses 
I  saw  Mr.  Addington  open  one  of  his  budgets,  and  I  imagined  I  heard  the 
groans  of  a  hundred  million  people. 

21 


322  LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

Mr.  Pitt  is  the  most  cool,  perspicacious,  dignified,  and  flu- 
ent speaker  who  ever  rose  in  a  deliberative  assembly.  The 
moment  he  is  expected,  a  solemn  stillness  pervades  the 
House  ;  and  while  his  presence  is  felt,  his  adversaries  lose 
all  their  influence.  His  manner  is  gentle  and  unassuming; 
his  gestures,  moderate  and  conciliatory ;  his  voice,  musical, 
clear,  and  distinct ;  his  words,  most  happily  selected  with- 
out the  least  appearance  of  selection,  flow  in  an  unruffled, 
uniform  stream,  always  sufficiently  rapid  to  interest,  and 
frequently  to  command  attention.  With  these  advantages, 
he  opens  upon  the  House  a  mind  veteran  in  politics  and  as 
extensive  as  the  various  relations  of  the  empire.  Nor  is  he 
deficient  in  illustrations  drawn  from  modern  science,  or  in 
embellishments  derived  from  ancient  literature  ;  but  he  uses 
both  illustrations  and  embellishments  sparingly.  With  a 
mind  thus  adorned  by  nature,  thus  disciplined  by  art,  and 
habitually  cool  and  determined,  no  wonder  he  displays  on 
all  occasions  a  reach  far  beyond  the  attainment  of  ordinary 
men.  While  the  fallen  statesman  is  yet  willing  to  hazard 
his  former  immense  responsibility,  he  still  seems  to  support 
a  mighty  kingdom,  nor  does  he  sink  under  the  weight. 
Doubtless  no  member  of  the  House  of  Commons  could  sup- 
port such  a  weight  of  character  unless  his  pre-eminent  abili- 
ties had  first  given  him  the  necessary  strength,  and  then 
that  weight  of  character  had  seconded  his  abilities. 

His  chief  excellence  consists  in  inspiring  a  full  confi- 
dence in  his  own  capacity  ;  then  he  places  you  at  a  due 
distance,  perfectly  at  your  ease,  and  whether  he  is  right 
or  wrong  you  are  loath  to  interrupt  the  copious  stream  of 
his  eloquence,  which  flows  with  such  a  felicity  of  connec- 
tion and  concludes  with  such  an  elegant  compactness,  that 
you  fancy  you  have  been  listening  to  an  oracle,  whose 
words  dictated  in  the  harmony  of  numbers  carry  a  divine 
influence.     No  breaks,  no  exclamations,  no  agitation,  no 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  323 

violence  of  expression  mark  his  course,  ruffle  his  temper, 
or  disturb  the  spell.  Never  does  he  astonish,  like  the 
column  df  Niagara,  by  his  headlong  torrent,  falling,  spark- 
ling,  and  spreading  wide  its  foam,  —  he  preserves  his  nat- 
ural and  deep  channel.  He  fixes  you,  it  is  true,  and  you 
are  satisfied  while  under  the  power  of  his  words;  but  the 
moment  he  concludes  the  impression  is  gone,  and  you  are 
ready  to  dispute  him.  The  reason  is,  Pitt's  eloquence  is 
the  eloquence  of  the  head,  and  not  the  eloquence  of  the 
heart.  He  is  as  cold  as  the  polar  regions,  and  as  dry  as 
the  deserts  of  Arabia.  He  is  afraid  to  tempt  his  feelings, 
lest  his  heart  should  betray  his  head.  Hence  he  is  spar- 
ing of  ornament,  suspicious  of  moral  digression,  and  fear- 
ful of  an  appeal  to  the  passions. 

Destitute,  at  present,  of  the  pioneers  of  the  treasury 
bench,  Pitt  stands  self-supported,  and  seems  to  plant  him- 
self in  a  narrow  defile,  prepared  to  oppose  all  who  may 
come  that  way.  Although  he  sees  bis  adversaries  from 
afar  —  some,  like  Fox,  approaching  directly,  others  scour- 
ing along  the  declivities,  and  a  few  subaltern  partisans 
who  retreat  the  moment  their  heads  are  discovered  above 
the  hills  —  he  maintains  his  ground,  notwithstanding  his 
accustomed  armor  renders  him  incapable  of  varying  his 
weapons,  while  his  mechanical  movements  forbid  him  to 
pursue  the  enemy. 

Fox  appears  in  the  House  of  Commons  under  the  most 
favorable  impressions  which  an  ambitious  orator  can  de- 
sire, nc  commands  the  awe  if  not  the  admiration  of  the 
Ministry,  steals  into  the  affections  of  the  indifferent,  and 
carries  with  him  the  enthusiasm  of  his  friends.  How  can 
it  be  otherwise?  His  heart  is  full  and  laboring  before 
he  rises.  Consistent  from  the  beginning,  his  sincerity  is 
never  doubted,  and  thus  he  is  always  in  possession  of  the 
foreground ;  and  though  he  frequently  breaks  out  in  sud- 


324  LETTERS  FBOM  LONDON. 

den  abruptness,  the  beginning  of  his  last  speech  always 
seems  the  conclusion  of  the  preceding.  His  whole  political 
life  has  been  one  continued  now  of  eloquence,  —  here  only 
a  narrow  stream,  and  there  scarcely  flowing  at  all,  but  on 
every  great  occasion  collecting  itself  like  a  torrent  and 
rushing  in  a  wide  and  lengthened  volumo ;  now  breaking 
over  rocks  and  precipices,  and  now  making  its  own  channel 
through  the  mounds  which  his  busy  competitors  had  labo- 
riously reared,  sweeping  all  away,  and  not  infrequently 
overwhelming  his  enemies,  and  leaving  their  dead  bodies 
floating  far  behind. 

In  vain  will  a  king  of  Great  Britain  draw  a  line  over  the 
name  of  such  a  man  as  Fox.  If  no  longer  privy  counsellor, 
he  is  counsellor  of  the  nation.  It  is  impossible  to  oppress 
or  humble  such  a  man.  Wherever  he  treads,  he  must 
leave  an  indelible  impression  ;  whatever  he  does,  becomes 
a  part  of  his  country's  history ;  and  whatever  he  says,  must 
descend  to  posterity. 

Though  Fox  is  slovenly  in  appearance,  unwieldy  in  per- 
son, and  ungracious  in  manners,  though  his  voice  is  dis- 
agreeably shrill,  his  words  frequently  indistinct,  and  his 
action  generally  embarrassed,  yet  he  has  scarcely  begun  be- 
fore you  are  solicitous  to  approach  nearer  to  the  man.  In 
the  midst  of  passion,  which  sometimes  agitates  him  until  he 
pants  high,  he  displays  so  much  gentleness  of  temper  and 
so  little  personal  feeling  that  a  stranger  might  easily  imag- 
ine he  saw  this  man  among  the  gods,  unencumbered  with 
any  mortal  affection,  debating  for  the  good  of  mankind.  So 
much  pure  principle,  natural  sagacity,  strong  argument, 
noble  feeling,  adorned  with  the  choicest  festoons  of  ancient 
and  modern  literature,  and  all  these  issuing  from  a  source 
hitherto  inexhaustible,  never  before  so  distinguished  a 
man.  If  nations  were  not  suffered  to  go  mad  before  they 
are  destroyed,  the  voice  of  Fox,  raising  itself  in  the  midst 


LETTERS   FROM   LONDON.  325 

of  corruption,  false  politics,  and  the  abuses  of  a  full 
century,  would  yet  be  beard. 

With  these  advantages  of  consistency,  of  integrity,  of 
political  sagacity,  of  irresistible  and  lengthened  argument, 
no  wonder  if  while  he  never  condescends  to  personality,  all 
those  over  whom  the  influence  of  corruption  has  passed 
seem  to  shrink  under  bis  presence.  They  have  nothing  to 
fear.  Fox  never  descends  from  the  summit  of  his  reputa- 
tion. He  knows  that  he  has  long  been  a  spectacle  to  his 
own  countrymen  and  to  neighboring  nations,  and,  as  if 
standing  in  the  presence  of  all  Europe,  he  seems  to  hold 
in  his  hand  the  record  of  his  past  life,  while  his  eye  pierces 
down  to  posterity,  in  pledge  of  his  future  constancy  to  his 
avowed  principles. 

Pitt  you  are  willing  to  hear  until  he  is  exhausted.  But 
Fox  first  lays  down  an  interesting  position,  fixes  your  earn- 
est regard,  and  attaches  you  wholly  to  himself  ;  then  by  the 
rapidity  of  his  utterance  hurries  you  on,  not  to  immediate 
conviction,  for  he  is  sure  the  minds  of  all  are  pressing 
forward.  Fearless  of  presuming  on  the  patience  of  his 
hearers,  he  is  enabled  to  give  free  play  to  his  feelings,  to 
his  genius,  to  his  learning,  —  all  which  united  give  an  irre- 
sistible force  to  his  arguments,  and  would  confound  all 
distinction  between  his  friends  and  enemies,  did  not  Pitt, 
the  sole  support  of  his  party  at  these  moments,  breaking 
in  upon  the  calm  and  silence  of  the  solemn  impression, 
recall  to  a  new  conflict  the  wavering  majority. 

In  one  respect,  Fox  will  forever  be  esteemed  above  his 
contemporaries.  Though  he  has  grown  gray  in  the  opposi- 
tion, he  has  never  made  one  personal  enemy.  At  the  end 
of  a  twenty  year's  contention,  he  is  still  considered  a  man 
of  a  ooble  disposition;  and  both  in  the  moment  of  debate 
and  with  the  nation  at  large,  he  still  maintains  the  influ- 
ence of  his  former  days. 


326         LETTERS  FROM  LONDON. 

Mr.  Windham  is  not  an  orator  of  that  commanding  pres- 
ence which  fixes  confidence  or  attaches  a  party.  Though 
hardly  an  orator,  lie  is  one  of  the  most  successful  parti- 
sans who  ever  entered  on  the  warfare  of  debate.  His  grace- 
ful person,  his  serious  air,  his  bald  head,  joined  to  his  de- 
liberate, distinct  utterance,  give  him  at  once  a  senatorial 
dignity  independent  of  his  various  intellectual  forces. 

I  have  seen  Mr.  Windham  out  of  place  only ;  I  have  seen 
him  in  pursuit  of  Mr.  Addington.  How  he  would  appear 
on  the  treasury  bench,  I  can  only  imagine.  In  his  pres- 
ent seat  he  shows  nothing  but  his  talons  ;  and  with  all  the 
unfeeling  instinct  of  the  bird  of  prey,  he  fixes  on  the  neck 
of  the  minister,  who,  unlike  Pitt,  is  vulnerable  at  every 
point,  and  daily  bleeds  afresh. 

Nothing  great,  nothing  manly,  nothing  conciliatory  mark 
the  course  of  Windham ;  whether  he  rises  in  meditated  or 
instantaneous  assault,  he  points  out  at  once  the  object  of 
his  destruction.  No  disguise  :  the  man  cannot  hide  his  fea- 
tures ;  it  is  forever  the  same  inveterate  spirit.  "  Idem  hab- 
itus oris,  eadem  contumacia  in  vultu,  idem  in  oratione  spir- 
itus  erat."  1  Passing  by  the  plausible  Hawkesbury,  the 
laborious  York,  and  the  elegant  Castlercagh,  auxiliaries  of 
the  minister,  Windham  never  suffers  one  of  his  arrows  to 
miss  the  heart  of  Addington.  He  is  as  terrible  to  his 
enemy  as  those  enormous  serpents  which  carry  with  them 
threefold  terror,  —  whose  fangs  are  not  less  fatal  than  the 
squeeze  of  their  bodies,  nor  this  less  fatal  than  the  lash 
of  their  tails.  His  instant,  downright  attack  precludes  all 
escape ;  while  his  close  logic,  lengthened  out  by  the  wind- 
ing subtlety  of  metaphysical  reasoning,  leaves  his  enemy 
bound  hand  and  foot.  Not  satisfied  with  this,  and  himself 
not  half  exhausted,  he  collects  all  his  sarcastic  powers, 
and  begins  a  new  onset,  the  most  ferocious  of  the  muses 

1  Livy,  ii.  61. 


LETTERS  FROM  LONDON.  327 

waiting  his  pleasure,  and  opening  all  the  stores  of  ridi- 
cule, jest,  and  satire. 

No  wonder  the  Chancellor  is  chafed,  no  wonder  he  frets 
in  his  seat ;  his  ministerial  dignity  suffers  under  the  daily 
ridicule,  while  his  self-love  is  touched  to  the  quick  under 
the  e\-er  new  contempt  of  Windham,  for  no  man  ever  pos- 
sessed a  more  insidious,  villifying  talent  at  reproach,  which 
can  neither  be  warded  off  nor  retorted.  It  is  not  a  single 
taunt,  and  then'  a  respite  ;  it  is  not  a  passing  sneer  which 
is  presently  forgotten,  but  the  ceaseless  assault  of  the 
fabled  vulture. 

Though  Windhani  possesses  a  fine  imagination,  a  strong 
current  of  argument,  and  a  various  and  extensive  reach  of 
mind,  adorned  with  the  best  portions  of  classic  literature, 
—  add  to  these  a  fluency  second  only  to  Pitt's — yet  the 
ultimate  requisite  for  a  great  orator  is  wanting,  —  I  mean 
passion,  of  which  Windham  is  wholly  destitute.  He  is 
not  deficient  in  violence ;  but  he  shows  at  once  a  cold 
heart  and  a  passionate  head,  so  that  you  follow  him  in- 
differently. Before  you  can  feel  with  Windham,  you  must 
first  hate  the  mau  whom  he  attacks. 

However,  Windham  generally  brings  to  the  debate  some- 
thing new,  something  dazzling,  something  original ;  and 
when  he  does  not  add  anything  of  his  own,  he  displays  the 
question  in  its  best  possible  position.  Always  perspicacious 
and  elegant,  his  words  seem  to  flow  from  the  press  already 
arranged,  and  exhibiting  the  fairest  impression.  In  short, 
Windham  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  speakers  in  the 
House  ;  and  if  he  could  suppress  the  black  bile  which  con- 
tinually flows  from  his  mouth,  if  he  could  conceal  his 
bitterness,  he  would  add  new  weight  to  his  character, 
would  lose  nothing  of  his  senatorial  dignity,  and  would 
be  the  delight  of  the  House  of  Commons. 

Adieu. 


THE 

HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  following  Essay,  I  am  sensible,  is  but  a  sketch.  If 
it  have  merit,  it  will  be  attributed  to  the  design  rather 
than  to  the  execution.  The  subject  is  worthy  the  hand 
of  a  master,  and  is  still  open  to  much  philosophical  re- 
search. I  have  endeavored  to  explore  a  new  but  indirect 
source  of  argument  in  favor  of  the  divinity  of  Jesus 
Christ.  For  my  support,  I  have  relied  on  human  nature, 
and  strengthened  my  proofs  by  illustration  and  parallel, 
so  far  as  illustration  and  parallel  could  be  applicable  to 
the  character.  I  thought  it  possible  to  render  the  subject 
interesting  to  piety.     Let  the  public  judge. 


THE 

HUMAN   CHARACTER   OF   JESUS   CHRIST.1 


EVERY  age  has  produced  heroes,  enthusiasts,  and  im- 
postors. To  rise  pre-eminent  over  others  is  the 
first  wish  of  the  human  heart.  After  man  ceases  to  be 
wholly  selfish,  the  predominant  sensation  expands  itself 
in  comparison,  which  gradually  awakens  the  ardor  of 
ambition.  This  restless  feeling  has  a  governing  influence 
on  man  in  early  life,  and  never  entirely  forsakes  him  until 
he  loses  all  confidence  in  himself.  If  the  nature  be  gen- 
erous and  events  propitious,  they  produce  a  great  man  ; 
otherwise  the  disposition  takes  an  eccentric  turn. 

It  is  not  a  singular  circumstance  in  the  annals  of  human 
nature  that  every  one  of  those  heroes,  enthusiasts,  and  im- 
postors, the  history  of  whose  lives  has  been  sufficiently 
interesting  to  merit  preservation,  has  been  actuated  by  his 
particular  bias,  and  excited  by  motives  which  in  his  own 
estimation  were  powerful,  however  weak  or  criminal  they 
were  in  the  opinion  of  mankind.  One  man,  already  a  con- 
queror, thinks  he  must  subject  the  world  before  the  world 
will  acknowledge  him  a  hero.  Another,  already  a  sover- 
eign prince  and  perfectly  at  ease,  proposes  more  than 
mortal  labors  in  order  to  enjoy  a  quiet  old  age.  A  third, 
favored  by  the  times,  boldly  associates  himself  with  heaven 
in  order  to  govern  the  earth.  A  fourth,  more  bumble 
though  not  less  ardent,  clad  in  a  hair  shirt,  is  willing  to 
travel  to  Jerusalem,  preaching  a  crusade. 

1  First  printed  in  1807,  for  William  Peluam,  Boston. 


332     THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 

The  characters  of  these  men  were  so  distinctly  marked 
in  their  own  days,  their  inspiring  motive  was  so  apparent, 
that  succeeding  ages  have  been  contented  to  appeal  to 
them  for  illustration,  or  to  raise  commentaries  on  their 
lives.  Doubtless  they  all  thought  themselves  paramount 
to  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  and  little  less  than 
inspired,  however  romantic  or  absurd  their  object  of  pur- 
suit. Hence  the  questions  of  magnanimity  or  of  selfish- 
ness, of  imposture  or  of  enthusiasm,  will  forever  arise 
while  the  pursuits  of  men  tend  to  pre-eminence  over  their 
contemporaries. 

There  is  one  person  on  record  who  has  commanded  the 
attention  of  every  succeeding  age  ;  and,  what  is  not  a 
little  remarkable,  it  is  not  yet  settled  in  what  class  of 
character  this  person  ought  to  be  placed,  notwithstanding 
he  has  engaged  the  zeal,  the  curiosity,  or  the  resentment 
of  the  divine,  the  philosopher,  and  the  statesman.  He  was 
a  person  whose  singular  fate  it  has  been  to  be  accred- 
ited by  some  whose  lives  reflected  no  honor  on  the  object 
of  their  adoration,  and  to  be  reviled  by  others  whose  moral 
worth  was  never  questioned.  How,  then,  are  we  to  esti- 
mate a  man  whom  many  worship  as  a  god,  whom  some 
consider  an  enthusiast,  and  whom  not  a  few  revile  as  an 
impostor  ? 

If  the  characters  of  all  eminent  men  have  been  drawn 
and  judged  from  their  lives  and  actions,  why  may  not 
we,  confining  ourselves  to  the  human  character  of  Jesus 
Christ,  reach  the  merits  of  the  question  by  testing  his 
life  and  actions  by  the  general  principles  of  human  nature, 
or  at  least  by  those  principles  which  usually  influence 
great  men  ? 

In  the  reign  of  Augustus  Cassar,  and  at  a  period  famous 
in  the  history  of  that  time  for   an  universal   peace,  an 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     333 

infant,  now  universally  known  by  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ,  was  born  at  Bethlehem,  a  village  of  Galileo,  a 
Roman  province.  His  parents,  no  doubt,  moved  in  the 
humblest  walks  of  society,  and  during  their  whole  lives, 
notwithstanding  the  reputation  of  their  son,  remained  in 
obscurity.  Their  poverty  and  humility  may  readily  be 
supposed  ;  for  the  child  was  born  in  a  manger,  a  cir- 
cumstance which  probably  would  not  have  been  recorded 
if  family  pride  had  been  studious  to  conceal  it, —  unless, 
like  the  story  of  Romulus  and  Remus,  it  was  designed  to 
be  the  groundwork  of  a  romantic  tale  ;  or,  as  the  child 
appeared  to  be  promising,  to  make  his  humble  origin  en- 
hance his  personal  merit.  But  as  no  such  uses  as  these 
were  ever  made  of  his  remarkable  birth,  it  seems  rea- 
sonable to  conclude  that  this  was  a  well-known  part  of 
their  family  history. 

The  education  of  a  boy  thus  situated  is  generally  con- 
tracted and  consistent  with  the  narrow  means  of  his  parents. 
Hence  the  adventures  of  Christ's  childhood  are  singularly 
barren  of  incident.  Until  the  age  of  twelve  years,  it  does 
not  appear  whether  he  was  grave  or  gay,  ardent  or  reserved. 
There  is  no  mention  of  even  one  brilliant  observation  of 
his  sedate,  nor  one  effusion  of  his  more  heedless,  moments 
which  can  be  regarded  as  prophetic  of  his  future  character. 
The  cause  of  this  is  open  to  two  remarks,  both  plausible, 
though  offering  different  conclusions.  It  may  be  said  he 
was  just  like  other  children,  and  showed  nothing  worthy 
of  particular  notice.  On  the  contrary,  it  may  be  replied, 
that  a  more  early  revelation  of  himself  might  have  dero- 
gated from  the  dignity  and  importance  of  his  purposes. 
A  boy-God  could  not  so  easily  have  supported  a  great  mis- 
sion. But  neither  of  these  remarks  has  much  weight ;  for 
it  seems  he  did  exhibit  himself  to  the  world  in  early  child- 
hood, and  then  commanded  the  attention  of  the  public. 


334     THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF   JESUS  CHRIST. 

If  the  first  wish  of  an  obscure,  inconsequential,  but 
aspiring  young  man  should  lead  him  to  associate  with 
the  world,  and  to  solicit  public  notice,  it  is  nothing  un- 
common. Obscurity  connected  with  ambition  usually  in- 
spires the  boldest  confidence ;  but  it  rarely  happens  that 
a  boy  of  real  genius  obtrudes  himself  on  the  busy  world. 
In  the  first  moments  of  conscious,  superior  worth,  the  boy 
of  genius  undergoes  sensations  wholly  averse  to  its  public 
manifestation.  He  trembles  in  the  glare  of  observation, 
and  tlies  from  the  presence  of  those  whose  attention  he 
is  most  anxious  to  arrest.  This  is  natural ;  the  first  open- 
ings of  a  great  mind  overcome  the  heart.  A  new  and 
powerful  sensation  oppresses  him ;  he  is  jealous  of  others 
and  doubtful  of  himself. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  years,  this  boy  found  himself  at 
Jerusalem.  His  parents  had  taken  him  with  them  to  cele- 
brate an  annual  feast.  To  a  child  of  common  observation, 
the  city  of  Jerusalem  must  have  been  a  source  of  much 
surprise.  How  many  questions  and  how  many  remarks 
such  a  journey  must  have  raised  in  a  young  mind  !  His 
soul  must  have  expanded  in  allusion  and  comparison.  In 
the  midst  of  such  a  scene  as  Jerusalem  presented  to  youth- 
ful curiosity,  every  step  would  hare  awakened  reflection. 
Yet  strange,  not  a  single  observation  on  human  life,  on  the 
city,  or  on  the  inhabitants  appears  to  have  escaped  him, 
who  was  too  young  for  an  impostor,  and  too  simple  for  a 
hypocrite.  Stranger  still,  this  ignorant  boy,  regardless  of 
all  the  novelties  of  the  city  and  truant  to  his  parents  (who 
had  already  left  Jerusalem  on  their  journey  home),  without 
any  introduction,  alone,  and  probably  in  mean  apparel, 
proceeds  to  the  Temple,  the  most  famous  place  in  the  city. 
There  he  finds  the  most  learned  men  in  the  country  dis- 
coursing on  public  affairs.  He  seats  himself  in  the  midst 
of  them,  and  of  a  sudden  enters  into  the  debate.     By  the 


THE  HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     335 

singular  pertinence  and  depth  of  his  observations  rather 
than  by  any  artifice  of  eloquence,  he  draws  on  himself  the 
attention  of  all.  Soon  they  become  astonished,  and,  drop- 
ping their  own  concerns,  regard  the  child  with  mixed  feel- 
ings of  curiosity,  awe,  and  wonder. 

One  might  imagine  that  this  early  and  brilliant  success  in 
his  first  attempt  to  attract  public  admiration  would  have 
fixed  the  predominant  character  of  the  man.  If  the  tremu- 
lous nerves  of  the  Olympic  victor  were  sometimes  over- 
powered in  supporting  the  laurel  which  his  corporal 
strength  had  won,  what  must  be  the  nature  of  him  who 
in  youth  receives  with  equanimity  the  more  cherished  and 
flattering  distinction  which  a  powerful  mind  commands 
from  the  willing,  perhaps  the  unwilling,  voices  of  his  con- 
temporaries ?  Already,  in  imagination,  the  brightest 
scenes  open  upon  his  manhood.  The  obscurity  of  his 
family  is  forgotten.  The  trappings  of  honor  will  not 
only  clothe  himself,  but  conceal  the  meanness  of  his 
parents.  Who  will  not  follow  him  in  the  ardor  of  riper 
years  whom  they  reverence  in  childhood  ? 

We  know  nothing  more  of  Jesus  until  he  is  thirty  years 
of  age.  Of  this  blank  in  his  life,  during  a  period  of  eigh- 
teen years,  every  man  must  judge  agreeably  to  his  own 
feelings  and  views  of  human  nature  ;  but  it  must  be 
obvious  to  every  one  that  this  long  obscurity  is  perhaps 
the  most  extraordinary  circumstance  of  his  life.  How- 
could  a  young  man,  conscious  of  talents,  and  contemptible 
in  that  age  both  on  account  of  his  parentage  and  place  of 
nativity,  sacrifice  so  long  the  laudable  pride  of  raising  his 
family,  or,  possessed  of  more  expanded  feelings,  of  honor- 
ing his  native  country  ?  Though  age  is  slow  and  calcu- 
lating, youth  is  hasty  and  clamorous  of  the  present.  How 
could  a  youth,  who  at  the  age  of  twelve  commanded  the  at- 
tention of  sages,  preserve  a  silence  during  so  many  years  ? 


336     THE  HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

Though  prudence  measures  everything  with  her  compasses, 
genius  is  more  rapid.  How  could  a  young  man  like  Jesus, 
whose  nation  was  the  reproach  of  the  earth,  bury  himself 
in  the  obscurity  of  Nazareth  for  so  long  a  period  of  that 
time  when  the  passions  are  all  alive,  and  when  pleasure 
engrosses  the  current  moment,  or  ambition  lays  plans  for 
the  future  ? 

At  about  the  age  of  thirty,  Jesus  appeared  again  in  pub- 
lic. He  was  then  in  the  ripeness  of  manhood,  at  a  period 
equally  distant  from  the  levity  of  youth  and  the  sobriety  of 
age.  He  is  reported  to  have  been  exceedingly  beautiful  in 
his  person,  if  you  examined  but  one  feature  at  a  time  ;  but 
his  entire  countenance  raised  in  the  beholder  an  interest 
which  immediately  affected  the  heart.  Sympathy,  awe, 
reverence,  but  chiefly  reverence,  were  the  prevailing  senti- 
ments he  inspired.  These  were  the  features  of  his  character 
in  the  moment  of  repose.  His  stature  was  rather  above 
the  common  size,  as  was  his  person,  and  that  was  finely 
proportioned.  His  hair  was  auburn,  gracefully  flowing 
over  his  shoulders  ;  his  steps  were  slow  and  firm,  bespeak- 
ing a  man  of  purpose.  The  most  brilliant  complexion  of 
health  adorned  his  cheeks,  which,  in  conjunction  with  his 
flowing  beard  —  the  fashion  of  those  times — and  a  pierc- 
ing hazel,  yet  unassuming  eye,  would  have  rendered  him 
altogether  attractive,  had  not  a  high  and  gently  retreating 
forehead  of  the  most  perfect  symmetry  restrained  famili- 
arity, and  impressed  the  beholder  with  an  emotion  of  re- 
spect. Though  he  appeared  under  every  disadvantage, 
under  almost  suspicious  circumstances,  it  was  impossible 
to  behold  him  without  being  in  doubt  as  to  the  true  char- 
acter of  the  man. 

Such  is  said  to  have  been  the  personal  appearance  of 
Jesus  Christ.  But  who  will  undertake  to  portray  the  cast 
of  mind  of  one  who  at  every  step  of  his  public  life  ran 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     337 

counter  to  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  common  sense  ?  Yet 
his  public  movements  and  public  counsels  offer  sufficiently 
distinct  outlines  from  which  to  draw  a  character,  not  the 
less  to  be  mistaken  for  its  entire  originality. 

Jesus  Christ  was  endued  not  only  with  all  those  qualities 
of  mind  which  arc  considered  the  attributes  of  command, 
and  insure  a  superior  standing  among  men,  but  he  was  still 
more  noted  for  the  milder  virtues.  These,  though  less 
splendid,  arc  entitled  to  more  merit,  in  that  they  are  rarely 
associated  with  strongly  marked  characters,  are  subjects  of 
attainment  rather  than  gifts  of  Nature,  and  require  a  habit 
of  circumspection  to  preserve,  and  a  constant  exercise  to 
practise  them  ;  but  in  Jesus  the  most  opposite  traits 
seem  to  blend  so  naturally  that  you  are  in  danger  of 
mistaking  two  virtues  for  a  single  one.  His  habitual 
meekness  and  undaunted  firmness,  his  all-subduing  wis- 
dom accompanied  with  a  subtle  sagacity,  and  his  almost 
childlike  simplicity,  never  for  a  moment  proved  a  foil  to 
one  another.  Perhaps  no  man  ever  possessed  a  more  ready 
versatility.  The  lowly  life  in  which  he  was  educated,  was 
not  more  familiar  to  him  than  the  more  ceremonious  com- 
pany of  the  Scribes,  the  Pharisees,  and  the  Doctors  of  Law. 
His  easy  conformity  bespoke  on  all  occasions  a  knowledge 
of  human  nature  which  seemed  to  be  intuitive.  No  man 
ever  approached  him  without  being  improved,  or  at  least 
laid  open  to  self-inspection ;  while  his  habitual  calmness 
and  presence  of  mind  gave  him  ascendency  over  the  cap- 
tious, whom  he  put  down  not  by  the  force  of  argument, 
but  by  a  moral  appeal  to  the  heart,  or  by  a  happy  illus- 
tration of  the  matter  in  question,  or  frequently  by  the 
method  employed  by  Socrates,  —  by  compelling  the  cap- 
tious questioner  to  confute  himself.  It  is  worthy  of  re- 
mark, also,  that  whatever  this  man  spoke  was  addressed 
to  the  heart  and  not  to  the  head  ;  hence  he  was  always 
22 


338       THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OP  JESUS  CHRIST. 

irresistible,  while  the  simplicity  of  his  appearance  and  his 
unassuming  manners  gave  his  wisdom  a  novel  and  all- 
attracting  charm.  Unembarrassed  with  the  doctrines  of 
the  day,  unversed  in  the  subtleties  of  the  schools,  contemn- 
ing the  formal  processes  of  logic,  he  made  no  claim  to 
learning.  Original  in  everything,  he  seemed  superior  to  all 
his  predecessors  in  fertility  of  mind.  Doubtless  owing  to 
his  lack  of  learning,  the  sciences  of  Greece  or  of  Rome  were 
never  subjects  of  his  appeal.  His  own  resources  served 
him  instead  of  the  light  from  other  men ;  and  if  he  was 
ever  at  a  loss  to  explain  himself  or  illustrate  his  subject, 
the  nearest  object  generally  afforded  the  most  lively  proof 
of  his  intuitive  powers.  The  little  child  who  happened  to 
be  present  is  as  strong  an  example  of  the  readiness  with 
which  he  converted  surrounding  objects  to  his  purposes 
as  the  more  ingenious,  though  artificial  parable.  Possessed 
of  such  resources,  where  was  the  necessity  of  a  display  of 
learning,  or  to  what  profit  could  Jesus  use  the  embellish- 
ments of  rhetoric,  when  to  enforce  his  doctrine  a  grain  of 
mustard-seed  was  ready  to  spring  to  a  full-grown  tree,  in 
whose  branches  all  the  fowls  of  the  air  might  lodge  ?  His 
was  not  the  eloquence  of  the  Sophists.  True  eloquence 
must  affect  the  heart;  if  the  heart  be  not  affected,  how- 
ever deeply  engaged  the  head  may  be,  it  is  no  longer  elo- 
quence,—  it  is  argument.  If  Christ  was  not  a  finished 
orator  by  the  rules  of  art,  he  was  the  first  of  orators  by 
the  force  of  nature.  Suffice  it  for  others  to  insinuate 
themselves,  to  watch  the  propitious  turn  of  indifference, 
and  gain  in  an  hour  what  they  cannot  command  in  a 
moment ;  suffice  it  for  others  to  beguile  their  hearers  by 
the  subtleties  of  the  schools,  by  splendid  figures,  by  apt 
illustrations,  by  strong  allusions.  The  orator,  however  suc- 
cessfully he  may  use  these  advantages,  betrays  only  a  bar- 
renness of  mind  compared  with  the  powers  of  him  who 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.       339 

speaks  only  to  the  heart,  and  can  at  one  effort  convert  his 
hearers  into  disciples. 

No  doubt  there  was  a  pecidiar  and  agreeable  manner  of 
address  accompanying  the  discourses  of  Jesus.  It  cannot 
be  supposed  but  that  the  graces  of  his  person,  —  his  ruddy 
complexion,  still  more  spiritual  in  the  moment  of  anima- 
tion, his  piercing  eyes,  mild  or  commanding  at  pleasure, 
his  fixed  and  ingenuous  countenance,  —  added  much  to 
his  success  ;  yet  there  certainly  was  an  unknown,  secret 
charm  attending  this  man  who  was  free  from  any  affec- 
tation of  applause. 

There  was  nothing  popular  in  his  manner ;  he  never 
seemed  to  make  an  effort.  How,  then,  was  he  always  so 
ascendant  over  his  followers,  or  rather,  how  did  he  collect 
so  many  followers  ?  With  the  famous  orators  of  that  age 
and  the  preceding  ages,  graceful  gestures,  an  animated 
eye,  frequent  violence  of  action,  passionate  invocations 
and  appeals  were  the  by-road  to  persuasion ;  with  Jesus 
expression  rendered  unnecessary  any  exertion  of  voice  or 
of  person.  Expression  in  him  was  action,  passion,  man- 
ner, address, —  everything.  This  was  the  mighty  power, 
the  unattainable  power,  which  is  said  to  have  produced 
such  strange  effects,  whether  he  rose  upon  the  multitude 
in  the  terror  of  his  wrath  or  addressed  them  in  the  tone 
of  charity  and  compassion  ;  whether  he  overwhelmed  the 
assuming  Pharisee  or  raised  the  humble  publican.  It  was 
this  inconceivable,  this  mysterious  expression  which  so 
much  perplexed  his  hearers  as  to  the  nature  of  the  person. 

Why,  then,  did  not  this  man  succeed  in  life  ?  "  He  was 
not  ambitious."  But  was  not  his  public  appearance  a  suf- 
ficient proof  of  his  ambition? — for  without  ambition  no 
man  throws  himself  on  the  public.  Why,  then,  did  not  this 
man  succeed  in  life  ?  "  He  knew  not  how  to  embody  the 
passions  of  men,  and  to  point  their  direction."     Yet  this 


340     THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

man,  in  a  chance  walk,  in  a  first  interview,  could  enlist  two 
fishermen  in  his  service,  and  fix  them  in  his  interest  during 
their  future  lives.  Why,  then,  did  not  this  man  succeed  in 
life  ?  "  He  knew  not  how  to  adapt  himself  to  the  age  in 
which  he  lived."  Yet  no  man  ever  possessed  an  equal 
facility  of  bending  to  times  and  circumstances,  though  in 
truth  no  man  —  no,  not  Cato  or  Socrates — ever  yielded 
less  to  the  principles  of  his  age.  Besides,  Cato  and  Socrates 
gained  all  their  reputation  and  influence  by  resisting  their 
age  ;  and  it  might  have  been  pardonable  in  Jesus,  a  man 
of  obscure  birth,  had  he  sacrificed  a  little  to  popularity, 
especially  as  he  did  not  associate  himself  with  the  Stoics, 
or  profess  himself  an  adherent  of  any  one  of  the  prevailing 
systems  of  the  day.  The  rigid  Cato  betrayed  his  prin- 
ciples in  some  degree  by  carrying  a  servant  with  him,  who 
pointed  out  the  citizens  by  name,  lest  in  shaking  hands 
Cato  might  seem  not  to  recognize  his  friends.  Nothing  of 
this  sort  is  attributed  to  Socrates  ;  yet  it  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered that  Socrates  was  a  retired  philosopher,  while 
Christ  and  Cato  were  public  characters.  Nor,  in  my  opin- 
ion, is  there  so  strong  a  resemblance  between  the  Nazarene 
and  Athenian  as  many  have  noticed.  Socrates  led  a  quiet, 
contemplative,  theoretical  life,  and  either  from  indolence 
or  contempt  of  foreign  nations,  closeted  himself  at  Athens, 
and  scarcely  professed  himself  a  public  character,  much 
less  the  reformer  of  his  nation. 

The  short  career  of  Jesus  was  the  reverse  of  this  ;  and 
though  many  have  been  at  a  loss  to  discover  a  substantial 
motive  for  his  action,  no  one  has  denied  him  an  uncommon 
ardor  in  his  pursuits.  Therefore  his  want  of  success  cither 
supposes  a  great  defect  of  character,  or  throws  a  veil  of 
mystery  over  the  man  ;  for  it  cannot  be  concealed  that  a 
strange  and  fatal  inconsistency  seemed  to  precede  every 
step  of  Jesus.     What  a  contrast  between  the  mind  and  the 


THE  HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     341 

actions  of  the  man !  Never  before  was  there  seen  Bach  a 
powerful  mind  apparently  counteracting  itself.  We  search 
in  vain  to  find  the  slenderest  tie  of  connection  between  the 
mind  and  the  conduct,  the  passions  and  pursuits  of  the 
man.  Had  he  lived  longer,  he  possibly  might  have 
unfolded  himself. 

If  candor  should  temper  suspicion  over  the  grave  of  a 
character  we  do  not  understand,  the  motives  of  Christ 
ought  not  to  be  prejudged.  That  man  must  be  a  consum- 
mate hypocrite  who  lays  down  the  fairest  system  of  virtue 
on  which  to  raise  a  monument  of  usurped  power.  The 
man  who  clothes  himself  in  humility  in  order  to  steal  a 
robe  of  State,  must  be  superior  to  all  his  contemporaries. 
In  the  road  to  sovereignty,  who  ever  descended  to  the 
offices  of  a  servant  ?  In  pursuit  of  a  royal  crown,  who 
ever  underwent  the  public  mockery  of  a  crown  of  thorns  ? 
Few  have  seriously  charged  Jesus  with  such  motives. 
Human  nature  is  more  consistent,  and  human  motives 
are  less  refined. 

However,  let  the  motives  of  Christ  be  estimated  as  vari- 
ously as  the  various  views  of  mankind,  still  his  public  life 
is  not  a  less  interesting  subject  of  remark.  We  will  draw 
a  little  nearer  the  man,  and  accompany  him  to  the  end 
of  his  life,  —  it  is  but  one  year  more,  —  to  his  singular 
catastrophe. 

We  must  now  imagine  to  ourselves  an  original  character, 
who,  conscious  of  his  own  extraordinary  powers,  had  pur- 
posely reserved  himself  until  he  could  appear  the  most  as- 
cendant among  men.  As  he  was  an  obscure  subject  of  a 
conquered  nation  which  had  sunk  into  a  Roman  province, 
whatever  were  his  views,  he  might  esteem  it  most  prudent 
to  reserve  himself  until  the  moment  of  his  mature  charac- 
ter. Hitherto  he  had  conducted  himself  like  a  wary  adven- 
turer ;  and  his  succeeding  movements  were  far  from  raising 


342       THE   HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

suspicion.  lie  neither  forced  himself,  like  an  adventurer, 
on  opportunity,  nor  even  calmly  waited  its  approach.  If  it 
was  the  first  concern  of  Jesus  to  win  to  himself  a  numerous 
party,  the  method  that  he  took,  though  at  first  successful, 
displayed  a  total  ignorance  of  human  nature,  and  left  a 
blemish  which  marks  an  incomplete  character ;  for  it  is  a 
blemish  in  a  great  man  to  lend  himself  to  half  of  the 
community  in  despair  of  gaining  the  whole. 

The  first  adventure  of  Jesus,  though  perfectly  consistent 
with  the  future  tenor  of  his  life,  has  no  parallel.  So  extra- 
ordinary is  it,  that  had  it  been  related  of  any  other  person, 
it  must  have  disappeared  long  since  among  a  thousand 
fleeting  fictions,  or  at  best  have  preserved  itself  in  some  re- 
pository like  the  Arabian  Nights.  Alone,  friendless,  and 
meanly  clad,  unassuming,  and  destitute  of  every  means  of 
inducement  except  that  mysterious  expression  of  which  we 
have  already  spoken,  Jesus  meets  two  fishermen,  brothers, 
busy  with  their  nets.  In  all  probability  they  had  never 
seen  him  before,  had  never  heard  of  him,  and  knew  nothing 
of  the  man  or  of  his  designs.  Possibly  they  were  young 
men  in  the  rich  enjoyment  of  domestic  happiness  ;  prob- 
ably they  were  poor  men,  to  whose  daily  industry  a  help- 
less, affectionate  family  looked  for  daily  support ;  perhaps 
they  were  desperate  in  their  circumstances,  of  careless  life, 
of  reckless  principles,  and  ready  for  any  adventure.  Yet 
Jesus  made  them  no  promises,  he  awakened  no  passion, 
he  applied  himself  neither  to  their  ambition,  nor  to  their 
avarice  —  no,  nor  to  their  love  of  pleasure,  to  such  men  the 
passion  most  present ;  he  neither  revealed  his  designs  nor 
tempted  their  curiosity.  "  Follow  me,"  said  he,  "  and  I 
will  make  you  fishers  of  men."  In  a  moment,  without  hesi- 
tation, sooner  than  reason  could  dictate  a  resolution,  they 
deserted  all.  In  a  moment,  this  world  had  dwindled  in 
their  estimation  to  a  point,  and  a  new  scene  opened   to 


THE   HUMAN"   CHABACTEB  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     343 

their  imaginations, —  which  scene,  though  apparently  as 
unsubstantial  as  a  moonbeam,  turned  the  future  current  of 
their  lives.  Although  they  fared  hard  and  were  generally 
despised  as  vagabonds  of  a  new  kind,  yet  they  never 
forsook  him,  until,  become  dubious  of  heaven  and  earth, 
they  saw  the  man  arrested  and  led  like  a  felon  to  a  death 
more  ignominious  than  that  of  the  gibbet.  This  was  no 
miracle ;  but  to  me  it  is  a  miracle.  It  is  a  miracle  in  hu- 
man nature,  and  therefore  less  liable  to  suspicion  than  a 
wrought  miracle  in  the  natural  world. 

Thus  this  extraordinary  man  in  a  chance  walk  by  the 
sea  of  Galilee,  beckoned  to  two  fishermen,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment fixed  them  forever  in  his  interest.  With  Mahomet 
it  was  a  labor  of  three  years  to  gain  fourteen  proselytes  ; 
and  Mahomet  possessed  all  those  attributes  of  man  which 
are  capable  of  winning  an  enemy,  or  of  commanding  a 
friend.  Before  Mahomet  spoke,  says  tradition,  he  was  in 
possession  of  his  audience,  his  presence  charmed  them, 
his  gracious  smile  won  them,  his  majestic  aspect  com- 
manded them,  his  piercing  eyes  fixed  them,  while  his 
countenance  revealed  every  sensation  of  his  soul,  and  his 
gestures  enforced  every  expression  of  his  tongue.  Yet  Ma- 
homet distrustful  as  to  his  own  eloquence,  and  doubtful 
of  success,  as  soon  as  he  had  collected  a  few  partisans 
furnished  himself  with  a  sword,  and  proclaimed  himself  a 
captain.  Christ,  on  the  contrary,  when  most  famous  and 
successful  never  fully  expanded  his  views,  but  retained 
all  his  humility,  and  even  condescended  to  wash  the  feet  of 
his  disciples.  Mahomet,  like  Christ,  promised  heaven  to  his 
followers ;  but  Mahomet,  brandishing  his  sword,  declared 
that  sword  to  be  the  key  of  heaven.  Christ,  on  the  con- 
trary, opened  the  gates  of  heaven  to  the  repentant.  Here 
he  alarmed  the  conscience.  "With  Mahomet,  to  conquer 
others  was  the  crown  of  glory ;  with  Jesus,  to  conquer  one- 


344      THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 

self.  To  the  followers  of  the  one,  this  world  offered  every- 
thing; to  the  followers  of  the  other,  this  world  promised 
nothing.  Mahomet  opened  a  new  world  to  the  imagina- 
tion, and  added  flame  to  fire.  What  oriental  could  hesi- 
tate to  follow  the  banners  of  Mahomet,  when  the  hourics 
of  Paradise,  dancing  among  the  palm-trees,  beckoned  the 
fierce  soldier  to  the  delirium  of  eternal  rapture  ?  Jesus, 
with  one  hand  laid  on  his  heart,  pointed  upward  with  the 
other,  and  held  his  followers  by  no  other  tie  than  a  sub- 
lime faith.  Mahomet  gained  everything;  Christ  suffered 
everything.  Mahomet  lived  a  conqueror,  and  died  glori- 
ously; Jesus  lived  like  a  vagrant,  and  suffered  a  felon's 
death.  Mahomet  established  a  new  religion  by  bribing  the 
passions ;  Jesus  Christ  by  taxing  the  passions. 

Passing  on,  Jesus  sees  two  other  fishermen  with  their 
father,  on  shipboard.  They  were  mending  their  nets.  "  Fol- 
low me,"  said  Jesus,  and  they  left  all  and  followed  him. 
Soon  the  little  company  swells  to  a  multitude.  From  all 
quarters,  people  of  many  descriptions  flock  to  his  presence. 
His  fame  is  already  extended  to  distant  regions,  even  to 
Syria.  Does  the  man  not  perceive  he  is  hastening  his  own 
destruction  ?  Is  it  not  treason  under  Tiberius  to  be  found 
at  the  head  of  so  many  men  in  a  Roman  province  ?  What 
is  his  object  ?  Is  it  temporal  power  ?  What  weakness  to 
collect  an  army  without  one  soldier!  Is  honest  fame  or  the 
more  imposing  attractions  of  false  greatness  the  object  of 
his  heart  ?  What  folly  to  collect  around  him  the  most  ig- 
norant, the  most  obscure,  and  the  most  abandoned  ! 

At  the  head  of  this  checkered  multitude,  few  of  whom 
knew  the  man,  or  knew  the  motives  of  one  another ;  at 
the  head  of  this  suspicious  collection  of  idle,  curious, 
wondering  followers,  Jesus,  himself  in  appearance  not 
less  suspicious,  ascended  an  eminence,  and  there  seating 
himself,  delivered  a  moral  lecture.     Never  before  was  the 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     345 

world  illuminated  with  such  a  discourse.  Never  before 
did  such  sublime  precepts  distil  from  the  lips  of  a  mortal. 
From  that  day  forth,  the  heathen  sages  lost  their  credit. 
Their  fine-spun  casuistry  sunk  under  the  weight  of  a 
sublime  moral ;  their  patch-work  morality  was  trampled 
under  foot  and  disgraced  forever  ;  all  their  good  was 
melted  into  this  half-hour  moral  discourse.  No  won- 
der its  force  and  novelty  astonished  the  multitude.  No 
wonder  they  stood  looking  to  heaven  in  doubt,  and  were 
ready  to  follow  him  at  hazard.  How  could  they  help  re- 
posing all  their  confidence  in  the  man  whose  unpremedi- 
tated discourse  entered  into  every  precinct  of  their  hearts, 
and  in  humbling  them  by  bringing  to  light  all  that  was 
base,  at  the  same  time  elevated  them  above  this  world  by 
disclosing  to  them  a  sublime  affinity  ?  That  man,  who, 
after  laying  open  to  men  their  hearts,  can  lead  them  at 
his  pleasure,  has  surely  found  the  principle  which  governs 
mankind.  At  this  day  we  can  only  imagine  the  expression 
of  the  man's  countenance ;  the  power  of  his  words  all 
men  have  felt.  The  charm  of  his  words  as  uttered  has 
departed,  the  beauty  of  his  discourse  is  blemished  by  a 
halting  translation,  and  the  order  is  broken  by  chapter 
and  verse ;  but  the  substance  remains,  and  will  forever 
remain,  an  object  of  curiosity  to  taste  or  of  improvement 
to  piety. 

Human  nature  was  thought  to  be  raised  by  the  Stoics  to 
a  dignity  scarcely  its  own.  But  their  moral  austerity 
counteracted  itself,  and  produced  a  pride  and  intolerance 
not  always  compatible  with  social  life.  The  discourse  of 
Jesus  on  the  Mount  gave  a  moral  which,  though  built 
on  humility,  transcended  the  severity  of  the  Stoics,  and 
taught  man  what  he  ought  to  be  rather  than  what  he 
might  be.  The  Stoics  made  no  allowance  for  human 
frailty.     Even  the  milder  virtues  were  treated  with  con- 


34G     THE   HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 

tempt.  Pit}r  was  a  weakness,  compassion  a  crime ;  and 
love  was  divested  not  only  of  sentiment,  but  of  heart. 
They  tied  up  the  passions,  and  chastised  the  sensations. 
Though  he  struck  at  the  root  of  man's  pride,  Christ 
offered  no  violence  to  man's  nature.  He  offered  no  new 
system ;  he  who  addresses  the  human  heart  should  never 
think  of  a  system. 

But  why  did  not  the  civil  authority  arrest  the  progress 
of  this  man  ?  We  have  already  told  the  cause.  Christ 
never  offered  a  system.  Of  all  men  he  was  apparently 
least  solicitous  of  reputation ;  for  though  he  commanded 
at  pleasure  the  passions  of  others,  he  never  manifested  a 
passion  of  his  own.  Besides,  his  public  life  was  too  un- 
sociable for  popularity,  rather  inspiring  reverence  than 
courting  favor,  —  though  in  a  private  circle  he  was  willing 
to  adapt  himself,  and  sometimes  lent  his  presence  to  domes- 
tic assemblies.  A  man  of  this  description,  whose  constant 
doctrine  seemed  to  impress  on  his  followers  the  duty  of 
obedience,  and  even  of  acquiescence  under  every  form  of 
government,  could  not  be  obnoxious  to  the  Roman  author- 
ity of  that  day.  Patience  and  resignation  to  others,  is  the 
doctrine  most  agreeable  to  a  tyrant.  Hence  the  cause  of 
the  persecution  of  this  man  must  have  been  more  deep 
and  insidious  than  any  alarm  on  the  part  of  the  civil  au- 
thority. But  was  Jesus  an  advocate  for  arbitrary  power  1 
Not  Brutus  was  less  so.  With  the  feelings  of  a  prophet, 
and  with  an  unerring  political  foresight,  he  addressed 
himself,  in  general,  to  that  great  body  of  the  community 
which  in  all  countries  and  in  all  ages  can  find  little  on 
which  to  repose  but  a  naked  faith.  Did  he  side  with  the 
rich  against  the  poor  ?  Not  Aristides  was  more  just.  Did 
he  inspirit  the  poor  against  the  rich  ?  Not  Thurlow  was 
more  austere.  The  sagacity  of  Jesus  led  him  to  foresee 
that  under  every  form  of  government  the  strong  would  prey 


THE   HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     347 

upon  the  weak  ;  that  the  rich  would  oppress  the  poor ;  that 
human  society  was  just  like  the  pyramid,  the  bottom  of 
which  must  forever  support  the  whole  weight ;  and  that 
unless  there  was  a  sympathy  on  the  one  part  and  a  moral 
feeling  on  the  other,  the  union  of  men  in  society  would 
beget  a  system  of  aggression  and  antagonism.  Xo,  Jesus 
offered  no  new  system ;  he  only  sublimated  the  religion 
of  Nature.  Regardless  of  forms  and  ceremonies,  in  the 
midst  of  the  single  institution,  —  the  social  board  of  bread 
and  wine,  —  he  taught  his  disciples  to  look  directly  to 
heaven. 

Nor  was  the  civil  power  alarmed  at  this  man's  sudden 
renown.  It  was  an  admiration  that  followed  rather  than 
a  popularity  that  was  courted.  Jesus  never  remained  in 
one  place  a  sufficient  length  of  time  for  a  sedition,  much 
less  for  a  conspiracy,  to  gain  consistency.  For  whenever 
the  people  assembled  in  multitudes,  it  was  his  constant 
practice  to  retire  speedily  to  some  other  city  or  village ; 
so  that  a  sedition,  although  most  terrible  in  a  despotic 
government,  in  that  it  is  never  without  cause,  was  not 
feared  by  the  Roman  authority  in  Judea,  from  the  public 
carriage  of  Jesus. 

In  this  manner  Jesus  travelled  over  the  principal  parts 
of  his  country,  evidently  devoted  to  some  pursuit,  the 
object  of  which  was  doubtless  in  his  own  opinion  superior 
to  any  of  those  attainments  which  usually  excite  the  pas- 
sions of  men ;  for  in  the  ardor  of  his  purposes,  Jesus 
overlooked  all  those  objects  which  were  most  dear  to  the 
great  men  of  antiquity,  and  likewise  money,  the  passion  of 
the  present  day.  With  a  mind  at  once  solid  and  brilliant, 
which  seemed  to  place  its  chief  delight  in  the  conception 
of  the  sublimest  moral  truths,  he  left  all  his  fame  as  a 
philosopher  to  the  treacherous  ears  of  an  ignorant  multi- 
tude, or  to  the  care  of  a  few  associates  who  possibly  could 


348     THE  HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

not  write  their  names  !  With  a  courage  that  never  turned 
from  an  enemy,  and  with  a  firmness  that  encountered  the 
whole  opposition  of  the  Pharisees,  this  man  submitted  to  be 
spit  upon,  to  be  buffeted,  to  be  smitten,  and  to  be  scourged. 
With  pretensions  to  arrogate  everything,  this  man  claimed 
nothing;  and  only  ouce  complained  that  while  the  birds 
had  nests,  and  the  foxes  had  holes,  he  himself  had  not 
where  to  lay  his  head.  In  the  midst  of  a  people  who  were 
ready  to  worship  him  as  a  god,  he  was  content  to  be  derided 
as  an  impostor.  In  the  midst  of  a  people  whose  favor  was 
ready  to  outstrip  the  wings  of  his  expectation,  Jesus  sunk 
upon  the  public  below  Barabbas  the  robber.  Yet,  what 
is  no  less  extraordinary,  he  lived  perfectly  contented, — 
neither  envying  the  rich  nor  despising  the  poor.  Nor  did 
he  endeavor  to  ameliorate  the  severity  of  his  condition,  or 
even  to  shun  the  ignominy  of  his  fate, —  a  pathetic  pre- 
sentiment of  which  he  expressed  a  short  time  before  his 
death.  Yet  this  man,  always  in  the  depths  of  poverty,  was 
reputed  to  work  miracles ;  but  the  greatest  miracle  of  all 
is,  he  never  wrought  one  in  his  own  favor.  In  such  a 
case  would  not  any  other  man  have  exerted  his  power  to 
control  his  wants,  or  even  to  insure  his  pleasures  ?  Would 
not  an  Oriental  have  turned  water  into  wine  for  his  own 
use  ?  Instead  of  a  life  of  penance  and  penury  would  not 
the  congenial  climate  of  Judea  have  inspired  convivial 
gratifications  ?  Instead  of  practising  complete  abstinence 
and  chastity  would  not  an  Oriental,  whose  blood  usually 
flows  in  a  fiery  current  or  trembles  in  a  voluptuous  lan- 
guor, have  converted  the  very  cedars  of  Lebanon  into 
a  harem  ?  Yet  this  temperate  Nazarene  preferred  the 
brook  or  the  rivulet  to  the  joys  of  the  vintage.  Yet  this 
humble  Nazarene  travelled  over  Judea  on  foot,  and  never 
rode  but  once,  and  then  in  a  manner  that  seemed  to 
court  the  contempt  of  the  populace.     Yet  this  self-deny- 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     349 

ing  Xazarene  frequented  the  tables  of  a  Wapping  and  a 
St.  Giles.  Yet  this  Xazarene  was  as  exemplary  in  his 
affections  as  though  he  had  been  dipped  every  morning 
in  the  river  Cydnus. 

The  fame  of  Jesus  had  now  extended  throughout  Judea. 
Many  of  the  genteel  class,  including  not  a  few  of  the  chief 
rulers,  publicly  whispered  their  doubts  whether  the  man 
was  not  a  supernatural  being.  This  suddenly  alarmed  the 
Jewish  hierarchy ;  and  this  was  the  ruin  of  Jesus.  The 
disinterestedness  of  his  morality,  his  simplicity  of  life,  his 
quaker-like  inoffensiveness,  might  have  saved  him  from 
persecution  had  he  foregone  that  attribute  which  claimed 
the  adoration  of  mortals,  and  which,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
Jewish  authority,  stamped  him  at  once  an  impostor.  This 
unprecedented  pretension  would  alone  have  rendered  him 
dangerous  to  all  those  who  dreaded  a  change ;  for  when 
once  a  religion  is  established,  the  presiding  god  is  not 
permitted  to  interfere.  The  eloquence  of  Jesus  was  fre- 
quently directed  against  the  chief  priests,  the  Scribes,  and 
the  Pharisees.  Imprudent  man !  He  might  have  known 
that  every  establishment,  religious  or  civil,  is  cruel  and 
unrelenting  in  the  degree  it  is  perverted.  Yet  Jesus  pur- 
sued these  hypocrites  even  into  their  sanctuaries,  and  over- 
whelmed them  in  their  own  temples.  This  an  effort  of 
enthusiasm  ?  No ;  their  silence  confirmed  their  conviction, 
and  confessed  the  triumph  of  reason.  If  this  man  had 
seconded  their  views ;  if  this  man  had  thrown  off  his 
sackcloth,  and  doubly  fringed  his  garments ;  if  this  man 
had  associated  with  the  chief  priests  and  the  Jewish  au- 
thority —  and  why  did  he  not,  if  he  was  an  impostor  ? 
—  if  this  man  had  only  consented  to  become  what  his 
countrymen  were  more  than  ready  to  make  him,  —  doubt- 
less his  abilities  must  have  rendered  him  an  illustrious 
adventurer. 


350     THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

The  character  of  that  age  is  well  known.  The  Jewish 
hierarchy  was  paramount  to  the  law  of  Moses.  The  cere- 
mony of  the  tithe  of  mint,  of  annise,  and  of  cummin  was 
retained  ;  even  the  seat  of  Moses  was  respected,  but  the 
spirit  of  the  lawgiver  had  departed.  The  mantle  of  Elijah, 
long  since  worn  threadbare,  had  been  cast  off  for  the  line 
linen  of  the  East,  —  an  emblem  of  hierarchical  purity! 
Imprudent  man  !  Did  he  not  know  that  under  such  a  sys- 
tem virtue  is  odious,  and  truth  is  treason  ?  Did  he  not 
know  that  the  man  who  dares  attempt  to  bring  back  a  cor- 
rupted age  to  first  principles  is  worthy  of  death  ?  Surely 
if  this  man  was  an  impostor,  of  all  men  he  was  most  weak. 
He  associated  with  the  people,  who  were  nothing,  and  neg- 
lected the  hierarchy,  who,  far  more  commanding  than  any 
hierarchy  of  the  present  day,  were  supposed  to  possess  the 
fabulous  key  of  the  Roman  Church. 

Now  opens  upon  us  a  new  trait  in  the  character  of  Jesus. 
The  meek,  the  humble,  the  modest  son  of  Mary  is  no  longer 
a  wanderer  from  village  to  village,  he  no  longer  retires  to 
the  mountains,  or  frequents  the  sea-shores,  but  boldly  pro- 
ceeds to  the  temple,  —  that  very  temple  in  which  at  the  age 
of  twelve  years  he  had  astonished  all  who  heard  him. 
There,  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude  of  enemies,  in  the 
temple  of  the  Most  High  God,  regardless  of  the  reverence 
of  the  place,  bis  only  weapon  the  law  of  Moses,  be  throws 
himself  in  the  face  of  the  whole  hierarchy.  The  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  heartless  as  their  own  principles,  are  con- 
founded ;  for  such  is  the  dauntless  attitude  of  the  man,  and 
such  the  noble  frankness  of  his  carriage,  such  the  heart- 
appalling  terror  of  his  rebuke,  and  such  the  overbearing 
vehemence  of  his  reproach,  that  every  passion  of  the  hie- 
rarchy, except  love  of  office,  sinks  under  his  superior  pres- 
ence. Though  these  humbled,  proud  men  were  clothed  in 
authority,  though  an  immediate  apprehension  was  practi- 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     351 

cable,  not  a  whisper  came  from  the  lips  of  even  one  of  the 
chief  priests,  not  a  motion  from  a  Scribe,  not  a  murmur 
from  a  Pharisee.  They  wondered  at  the  deformity  of  one 
another,  but  each  retained  his  own  features.  In  contem- 
plating the  picture,  they  seemed  for  a  moment  to  for- 
get the  painter.  The  Scribe  revolted  at  the  moral  aspect 
of  the  Pharisee,  while  the  Pharisee  looked  coldly  upon 
the  chief  priests,  and  the  latter,  in  turn,  regarded  both 
the  others  with  scorn. 

It  was  no  doubt  a  novel  scene  to  behold  a  man  whose 
romantic  life  and  mysterious  pursuits  readily  raised  a 
suspicion  of  enthusiasm  or  of  imposture  boldly  enter,  in 
the  character  of  a  reformer,  that  temple  which  the  Jews 
either  from  policy  or  superstition  contended  was  the  favor- 
ite earthly  residence  of  the  Uncreated.  It  was  no  doubt 
a  novel  scene  to  the  hierarchy  to  behold  this  man  not  only 
usurp  their  office,  but  turn  upon  themselves  with  an  unex- 
pected violence  and  indignation.  Doubtless  truth  and  con- 
viction must  have  pointed  every  expression,  or  Jesus  must 
have  raised  a  corresponding  violence  and  indignation ; 
instead  of  which,  the  eyes  of  the  whole  hierarchy,  fearful  of 
the  obscure  Xazarene,  are  turned  on  themselves.  Had  Mo- 
ses himself  appeared  in  the  temple,  treading  on  sunbeams, 
his  head  concealed  in  the  dark  cloud  which  once  appeared 
on  Sinai,  and  holding  in  his  hands  a  scroll  of  the  decalogue, 
they  had  not  been  more  embarrassed,  they  had  not  been 
more  astonished.  Never  in  Greece  or  Rome  did  any  orator 
so  readily  triumph  over  his  adversaries ;  and  never  did  any 
orator  —  no,  not  Cicero  nor  Burke  —  venture  to  exhibit 
a  public  criminal  in  such  repellent  colors  as  those  in  which 
this  carpenter's  son  presumed  to  portray  the  characters 
of  fairest  repute  in  Jerusalem.  It  was  an  overwhelm- 
ing attack,  not  only  on  their  system  but  on  themselves. 
They   were   unprepared  with  the  least  apology,  and   the 


352     THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OP  JESUS  CHRIST. 

charges  were  brought  so  completely  home  that  all  reply 
was  precluded. 

This  was  one  of  those  moral  risks  which  reveal  the  man 
no  less  clearly  than  do  the  more  brilliant  actions  of  the 
hero;  and  perhaps  this  moral  experiment  on  the  Jewish 
hierarchy  was  at  once  the  most  sublime  and  successful 
effort  of  indignant  virtue  which  the  world  ever  witnessed. 
Let  us  contemplate  it  for  a  moment. 

It  demanded  an  uncommon  firmness,  I  had  almost  said 
a  madness,  of  mind  to  pronounce  in  the  face  of  the  nation 
the  fiercest  judgment  on  those  who  still  arrogated  to  them- 
selves the  seat  of  Moses,  those  whom  ages  had  rendered 
sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  people.  There  was  in  the  pub- 
lic opinion,  both  in  that  and  in  all  preceding  ages,  such 
an  intimate  connection  between  the  emblem  and  the  sub- 
stance of  religion,  between  the  priest  and  the  national 
divinity,  that  a  contempt  of  the  god  was  more  readily  par- 
doned than  an  impiety  to  his  priests.  This  indeed  was 
natural,  as  the  priests  governed  the  gods,  not  the  gods  the 
priests.  Hence  no  less  a  man  than  Alcibiades,  who  at 
various  periods  of  his  life  was  the  most  popular  man  at 
Athens,  excited  the  public  horror  from  a  bare  suspicion 
of  his  having  wantonly  broken  some  of  the  statues  of  Mer- 
cury, and  of  his  having  acted  in  mockery  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  an  entertainment  (the  awful  Eleusincau  mysteries), 
—  not  to  mention  Anaxagoras,  and  after  him  Protagoras, 
famous  philosophers,  who  were  thought  to  merit  banish- 
ment for  want  of  faith ;  or  Socrates,  reposing  in  his  old 
age  on  a  life  as  venerable  for  its  virtue  as  were  his  locks 
for  their  whiteness,  who  was  hurried  before  the  tribunal 
of  his  country,  and  condemned  to  the  hemlock  for  a  sup- 
posed disrespect  to  the  religious  feelings  of  his  country- 
men. Yet  Jesus,  supported  only  by  his  own  presence, 
regardless  of  common  prudence,  and  more  dauntless  than 


THE    HUMAN    CHARACTER   OF   JESUS   CHRIST.      353 

either  of  those  Greeks,  always  reserved  his  most  unwel- 
come discourses  for  the  ears  of  his  enemies.  Looking 
around  on  the  hierarchy,  who  were  watching  an  occasion 
for  a  quarrel,  Jesus  colored  with  indignation;  and  while 
he  saw  the  abuses  of  many  ages  lie  light  on  their  hearts, 
he  did  not  wait  for  the  tide  of  their  malice  to  meet  the 
gathering  of  his  own  rebuke,  but  he  silenced  them  for- 
ever with  a  "  Woe  unto  you,  Scribes,  Pharisees,  hypo- 
crites!" Yet  his  wrath,  the  wrath  of  a  generous  mind, 
subsided  in  a  moment,  and  like  a  sovereign  judge  who 
pities  while  he  condemns,  he  moderated  his  fierce  judg- 
ments in  that  most  pathetic  appeal :  "  O  Jerusalem,  Je- 
rusalem, how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children 
together,  even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings,  anil  ye  would  not ! " 

It  was  sufficient  glory  for  Demosthenes  to  deliver  his 
philippics  in  the  midst  of  all  Athens.  Philip  heard  them 
not  at  JIacedon ;  and  when  the  orator,  in  the  character 
of  an  ambassador,  waited  on  the  king,  the  wretch  was 
confoimded.  Cicero  gained  half  his  honors  from  Cati- 
line :  yet  Cicero,  in  the  midst  of  the  Roman  senate,  trem- 
bled in  the  face  of  his  enemy.  Burke  had  collected  all 
the  indignant  epithets  of  the  East  and  the  West,  and 
safely,  in  a  British  parliament,  aimed  them  at  the  ob- 
noxious Hastings.  Where  shall  we  find  a  man  who,  un- 
supported and  apparently  disinterested,  has  hazarded  so 
much  as  Jesus  Christ  1 

It  is  impossible  for  such  a  man  as  this  to  flourish 
long  in  a  corrupted  state  of  society.  Passive,  negative 
virtue  is  not  only  tolerated,  but  sometimes  applauded  in 
the  most  degenerate  condition  of  man;  but  when  an  ad- 
ministration of  government  lends  itself  to  national  de- 
pravity, and  the  civil  authority  finds  that  it  can  gain 
most  in  the  worst   times,  a   man  of  active  public  virtue 

23 


354     THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 

is  more  odious  than  any  object  whom  positive  law  may 
reach.  Such  a  man  cannot  be  endured;  the  splendor  of 
his  virtues  darkens  all  around  him  ;  the  vital  heat  of 
his  influence  withers  up  the  artificial  growth  of  the  holi- 
day virtues  of  his  contemporaries  in  power.  To  a  barren 
soil  the  early  and  latter  rain  is  scarcely  grateful ;  the 
meridian  sun  is  death  to  the  heartless  verdure.  Those  in 
power  soon  become  sick  of  hearing  Aristidcs  called  the 
just.  For  the  same  cause  the  virtuous  Gilbert  Wakefield 
was  sacrificed  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  the  much  en- 
during Priestley  hardly  found  respite  on  the  frontiers  of 
the  wilderness. 

Jesus  must  have  known  that  his  feelings  and  prin- 
ciples were  wholly  averse  to  the  manners  of  his  age, 
and  that  he  could  not  long  be  endured.  Yet  how  melan  • 
choly  for  a  man  in  the  bloom  of  manhood,  before  his 
mother  had  experienced  the  pleasure  of  a  mother  in  par- 
taking of  the  fame  of  her  son  ;  before  his  associates,  whose 
strong  faith  laughed  at  the  idea  of  his  catastrophe,  had 
witnessed  the  public  homage  and  consequent  honors  which 
they  thought  due  to  his  character,  —  how  melancholy  for  a 
man,  conscious  of  his  claims  on  society,  to  die  so  young, 
and  like  a  malefactor,  while  his  dearest  relatives  must 
necessarily  partake  of  the  ignominy  of  his  fate!  How 
abhorrent  to  his  own  nature  to  die  so  ignobly,  while  his 
heroic  firmness  was  scarcely  a  counterbalance  to  the 
extreme  sensibility  of  his  moral  feelings ! 

"  Yet  Socrates  died  with  equal  fortitude,  and  perhaps 
with  greater  resignation."  Socrates  was  seventy-two 
years  of  age,  had  outlived  his  contemporaries,  was  famous 
throughout  Greece,  and  in  the  sanction  of  the  Oracle 
was  the  best  man  of  his  times.  To  a  philosopher,  life 
has  few  charms  after  seventy.  Of  this  opinion  was 
Socrates,  and    it   mingled   itself  with  the  reasons  of  his 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     355 

resignation.  Among  five  hundred  judges,  Socrates  was 
condemned  by  a  majority  of  three.  lie  was  still  in 
possession  of  his  fame  and  virtue. 

Socrates  lost  nothing  but  his  life,  while  Jesus  suffered 
many  deaths.  Where  were  his  friends  in  the  trying 
moment  ?  Where  was  Peter  ?  Denying  with  an  oath  that 
he  had  ever  seen  the  man  !  Where  was  the  beloved  John  ''. 
The  beloved  John  had  fled.  To  whom  could  Jesus  look 
for  comfort  ?  To  his  wretched  mother,  who  saw  him 
nailed  to  the  cross,  and  watched  his  last  struggles. 

To  Socrates,  life  in  a  great  measure  was  indifferent. 
To  Jesus  this  was  impossible.  At  the  age  of  thirty-three, 
though  the  rosy  fragrance  of  youth  has  departed,  hope 
still  gladdens  the  heart;  the  substance  of  life  remains 
in  perspective  although  its  brightness  may  be  faded.  So 
that  whether  Jesus  was  possessed  with  the  spirit  of  en- 
thusiasm, of  imposture,  or  of  pure  virtue,  life  must  have 
been  exceedingly  dear  to  him  ;  for  whatever  was  his  object 
he  left  it  apparently  unaccomplished.  He  had  neither 
reformed  the  age,  conquered  his  enemies,  nor  advanced 
himself.  Apparently,  his  life  was  less  useful  than  that 
of  Socrates ;  his  virtue  was  too  strong,  too  exacting  for 
the  times.  Socrates,  on  the  contrary,  was  always  per- 
suasive; and  this  was  necessary  in  the  declining  virtue  of 
the  Athenians.  Jesus  was  always  Imperative,  and  spoke 
like  a  god  rather  than  like  a  man.  This,  seemingly, 
was  the  height  of  imprudence;  yet  this  was  his  man- 
ner from  the  beginning,  and  in  this  he  persevered  to  the 
moment  of  his  death.  His  last  expressions,  especially, 
indicated  that  he  was  an  enthusiast,  an  impostor,  or  a 
Heaven-ordained  messenger. 

The  hierarchy  soon  discovered  their  own  emptiness.  The 
contempt  which  the  unprotected  inconsequence  of  Jesus 
was  ready  to  excite,  gave  a  powerful  effect  to  the  earnest 


85G     THE  HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

simplicity  of  his  manner,  and  impressed  his  enemies  with 
a  sort  of  mysterious  terror.  They  well  knew  that  a  re- 
former whose  manners  were  serious,  whose  morals  were 
unexceptionable,  whose  firmness  prepossessed  the  confi- 
dence of  the  indifferent,  and  whose  ready  eloquence  seemed 
to  take  in  ideas  with  his  eyes  and  impress  them  with  his 
looks,  would  soon  effect  a  change  of  affairs.  Hence 
they  naturally  resolved  on  his  death.  It  was  ever  the 
opinion  of  a  majority,  that  an  enemy  however  virtuous  had 
better  die  than  that  they  should  lose  their  inllucnce.  They 
seemed  to  say  :  "  The  hlood  of  one  man,  imputed  to  many, 
would  scarcely  stain  their  hands.  In  all  human  proba- 
bility, the  miserable  Nazarene  would  be  forgotten  in  a 
short  time,  and  his  disappointed  associates,  ashamed  of 
his  fate,  would  be  the  first  to  revile  the  impostor,  or 
laugh  at  the  enthusiast.  Let  his  partisans  behold  him 
dead  ;  let  them  witness  his  terrible  catastrophe,  and  the 
delusion  is  over.  No  mortal  ever  worshipped  a  dead  god, 
or  erected  a  temple  under  a  gibbet."  Thou  short-sighted 
Scribe  !  Thou  blind  Pharisee  !  In  the  opinion  of  a  thou- 
sand generations  that  dead  man  will  revive  again ;  a  frag- 
ment of  that  infamous  cross  will  be  esteemed  a  sacred 
relic  ;  that  temple  in  which  his  presence  confounded  you 
shall  one  day  be  destroyed,  and  his  presence  shall  be  sup- 
posed to  fill  the  temple  of  the  universe. 

Consistent  from  the  beginning,  Jesus  neither  courted  nor 
shunned  his  enemies.  In  the  moment  of  his  arrest  he  ex- 
hibited a  magnanimity  which  has  never  been  surpassed. 
They  approached  him  cautiously,  but  Jesus,  suspecting 
their  errand,  first  accosted  them:  "  Whom  seek  ye?" 
"Jesus  of  Nazareth."  "I  am  the  man."  There  is  the 
sublime  in  Nature,  the  sublime  in  sentiment,  the  sublime 
in  action,  and  the  sublime  in  character.  Of  all  these 
the  sublime  in  character  is  most  admirable.     Nothing  from 


THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     357 

the  mouth  of  any  other  man  under  similar  circumstances 
has  equalled  this  reply  of  Jesus.     The  "  Strike,  but  hear 

me "  of  Themistocles  has  deservedly  been  celebrated  ; 
the  expression  of  Socrates  in  a  moment  of  anger  charm- 
ingly illustrates  his  presence  of  mind;  the  reply  of  the 
Indian  savage,  "  We  are  enemies,"  when  asked  his  opinion 
of  another,  was  perhaps  an  unconscious  expression  of  sub- 
limity :  and  the  "Myself"  of  Corneille  is  more  elevated 
than  either,  but  the  whole  merit  of  the  latter  is  due  to 
Corneille.  It  is  nothing  but  a  sublime  conception  of  the 
poet  fitted  on  a  great  character ;  whereas  "  I  am  the 
man"  embraces  not  only  the  sublime  of  character,  but 
also  the  sublime  of  action. 

"  I  am  the  man,"  said  Jesus,  and  surrendered  himself. 
No  resistance,  no  evasion,  no  attempt  to  escape  dishonored 
his  past  life.  Regardless  of  himself,  he  was  apprehensive 
for  his  friends  only ;  and  when  they  were  dismissed,  this 
eloquent  man  was  dumb.  The  same  presence  of  mind 
and  the  same  dignity  which  had  accompanied  him  during 
his  active  life,  accompanied  him  during  the  mockery  of 
a  judicial  process.  A  short  time  before  he  had  silenced 
the  astonished  hierarchy  ;  now  he  is  arraigned  a  public 
criminal,  —  his  life  and  reputation  are  at  hazard.  Perhaps 
he  foresees  his  fate  :  yet  surely  he  will  make  one  last  effort 
to  redeem  his  own  memory  from  suspicion,  and  render  jus- 
tice to  the  motives  of  his  followers.  Surely,  they  may 
have  thought  a  man  like  Jesus,  who  had  been  so  copious 
of  promises,  who  had  parcelled  out  twelve  thrones  in 
heaven  to  twelve  poor  men,  would  not  in  his  last  moments 
desert  those  who  had  so  honorably  supported  him,  those 
whose  faith  at  all  times  was  ready  to  surpass  their 
senses.  Sorely,  a  man  whose  life  had  been  devoted  to 
partisans,  whose  sacrifices  to  him  were  perhaps  greater 
than  his  to  them,  would  not  desert  his  followers. 


358     THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

It  was  magnanimous  in  Socrates  to  wrap  himself  up  in 
his  past  life.  Socrates  stood  alone ;  no  one  had  risked  his 
fortunes,  his  reputation,  or  his  common  sense  on  the  char- 
acter or  principles  of  Socrates.  It  was  magnanimous  in 
Scipio,  when  unjustly  accused,  to  preserve  a  contemptuous 
silence.  It  was  magnanimous  and  sufficient  for  Chatham, 
when  it  was  insinuated  in  Parliament  that  the  public 
moneys  had  been  plundered,  to  raise  his  trembling,  death- 
white  hand  and  shake  it  iii  presence  of  the  nation,  signify- 
ing that  no  gold  had  stuck  to  his  fingers. 

The  case  of  Jesus  was  different ;  no  private  individual, 
before  or  since,  ever  possessed  such  an  easy  and  unlimited 
control  over  his  fellow-men.  How,  then,  must  his  followers 
have  been  astonished,  when  they  heard  the  account  of  his 
dumb  and  passive  death  !  What  less  than  a  public  ha- 
rangue, what  less  than  an  exposition  of  his  principles 
and  views  could  his  disciples  expect  ?  And  what  a  field 
for  his  own  feelings !  The  man  might  have  carried  his 
whole  soul  into  the  eyes  of  his  enemies.  An  emanation 
of  his  own  virtue  might  have  passed  over  and  for  a  mo- 
ment purified  all  his  judges.  His  life  was  public ;  and 
would  it  have  been  derogatory  in  him  to  appeal  to  his 
public  life  ?  Might  he  not  have  proclaimed  his  own  inno- 
cence, or  at  least  have  reasoned  on  the  charges  alleged 
against  him  ?  Yet  this  eloquent  man  was  dumb.  He  pre- 
served to  the  last  his  mysterious  character,  and  seemed  to 
die  a  natural  death.  The  mystery  ends  not  here :  his  dis- 
ciples neither  complained  of  his  conduct  nor  sympathized 
in  his  fate.  His  own  disciples  still  carried  their  faith  be- 
yond their  senses,  and  adored  the  man  in  heaven  who, 
they  confessed,  had  died  on  a  cross.  Him  they  had  fol- 
lowed ;  for  him  they  had  forsaken  all.  Them  he  had  appar- 
ently deserted,  and  left  to  the  contempt  of  all  men ;  yet 
they  followed  this  man  beyond  the  grave,  to  place  him  on 


THE  HUMAN   CHABACTEfi  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     359 

the  throne  of  God.  When  the  man  was  dead,  those  who 
knew  him  best,  who  had  been  for  three  years  his  bosom 
companions,  worshipped  him  as  the  only  true  God,  per- 
sisted he  was  a  divine  being,  and  not  only  suffered  mar- 
tyrdom in  the  cause  of  this  reputed  malefactor,  but  in  the 
moment  of  their  sufferings  sometimes  converted  their 
enemies  to  their  own  faith  ! 

Here  an  objection,  indeed  a  powerful  one,  presents  it- 
self ;  and  that  freedom  of  remark  which  pervades  these 
pages  requires  a  serious  notice  of  the  objection.  If  the  dis- 
ciples of  Jesus  were  at  first  credulous,  and  afterwards 
fanatic,  their  conduct  after  his  death  was  not  only  natural, 
but  politic.  After  the  crucifixion,  the  disciples  were  on 
the  point  of  becoming  the  laughing-stock  of  all  men.  If 
during  the  life  of  Jesus  they  vrere  not  only  contented,  but 
gloried  in  the  humility  of  disciples,  how  deeply  must  they 
have  been  disheartened  after  his  strange  and  unexpected 
deatli !  If  their  pride  and  self-love  had  not  been  greatly 
weakened  under  his  discipline,  their  dubious  feelings  with 
the  help  of  a  warm  imagination  would  rise  into  the 
fiercest  fanaticism.  Peter  seems  to  have  been  the  most 
violent  of  any  of  the  disciples,  and  most  capable  of  lead- 
ing an  adventure.  Is  it  not  possible  then,  is  it  not  within 
the  limits  of  probability,  that  some  one  of  these  zealous 
partisans,  when  they  saw  the  God  whom  they  had  wor- 
shipped dead  and  buried,  should  propose  the  bold  design 
of  establishing  their  novel  system  on  its  own  ruins? 
Would  it  have  been  unnatural  for  them  to  say  :  "  Let  us 
tell  the  world,  and  let  us  persist  in  it,  that  Jesus  Christ 
the  crucified  God  finished  his  career  agreeably  to  an 
eternal  decree,  that  his  death  shall  prove  the  salvation 
of  all  who  will  believe  in  his  divinity  ;  and  to  inspire  the 
world   with  new   hopes  of  immortality,  let  us  proclaim  his 


360     THE   HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

resurrection  from  the  grave,  and  his  ascension  to  heaven 
amidst  a  host  of  angels.  This  doctrine  of  faith  so  agree- 
able to  the  laziness  of  mankind,  and  this  doctrine  of  im- 
mortality so  flattering  to  human  pride,  will  gain  upon  the 
world  in  proportion  to  our  own  apparent  faith.  We  shall 
first  gain  the  ignorant  and  abandoned ;  their  sincerity  will 
supply  new  zeal.  Afterward  the  wise  will  follow  from 
self-interest.  " 

A  proposal  like  this  might  have  arrested  the  attention  of 
honest  men  in  like  circumstances  with  the  disciples ;  for  there 
is  but  a  hair's-brcadth  between  fanaticism  and  falsehood. 

An  objection  like  this,  which  is  entirely  circumstantial, 
if  indeed  it  is  a  mere  objection,  is  most  satisfactorily  an- 
swered by  a  recurrence  to  the  circumstances  from  which 
it  has  arisen.  It  would  be  departing  from  the  design 
of  this  essay  to  give  a  full  discussion  to  any  objection. 
However,  I  cannot  forbear  to  observe  that  the  evangelists 
have  candidly  intimated  the  disappointment  and  doubts  of 
the  disciples  at  the  death  of  Jesus,  and  in  the  simplicity 
of  their  narratives  either  did  not  anticipate  any  objections, 
or,  what  is  more  probable,  they  justly  reflected  that  their 
own  attempts  to  answer  them  would  only  render  their  re- 
cord suspicious ;  so  that  mankind  are  left  to  choose  be- 
tween attributing  to  the  evangelists  great  simplicity  or  deep 
design.  Now,  there  is  certainly  nothing  on  the  face  of 
either  of  the  gospels  which  reveals  the  spirit  of  intrigue, 
of  enthusiasm,  or  of  selfishness.  Not  Xenophon,  of  all 
writers  the  most  artless,  has  more  simplicity  than  Saint 
John.  Hence  if  we  cannot  bring  home  to  either  of  the 
evangelists  the  charge  of  enthusiasm  or  of  selfishness,  the 
objection  loses  much  of  its  weight ;  especially,  when  we 
consider  that  one  of  the  disciples,  who  was  afterwards  a 
famous  preacher,  denied  his  association  with  Jesus,  an- 
other sold   him,  and   a   third,  after   the  death   of  Jesus, 


THE   HUMAN  CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.      361 

proved  inflexibly  incredulous  of  his  resurrection  until  he 
■was  convinced  by  the  most  perfect  demonstration. 

This  looks  very  little  like  a  conspiracy  of  fanatics. 
Fanaticism  is  all  passion ;  it  is  bound  as  with  a  chain  to  its 
object.  But  the  disciples,  confessedly,  were  in  a  state  of 
despondency  for  several  days  after  the  crucifixion.  Judas, 
the  treacherous  Judas,  was  rather  a  calculator  than  a  parti- 
san. It  may  justly  be  objected  that  it  is  impossible  to  sup- 
pose that  the  trusted  Judas  could  follow  Jesus  one  year,  lis- 
tening to  his  high  pretensions,  and,  convinced  of  his  divinity, 
betray  him  to  his  enemies.  This  doubtless  seems  too  absurd 
to  credit.  Yet  so  is  the  fact  reported.  Still,  Judas  himself 
■will  best  answer  this  objection.  "  I  have  betrayed  innocent 
blood,"  said  he ;  and  in  the  pangs  of  remorse  casting  away 
the  unholy  profit,  he  executed  martyrdom  on  himself,  —  an 
act  which  bore  witness  for  Jesus  no  less  than  did  the  death 
of  Stephen.  On  the  contrary,  had  the  speculating  Judas  at 
any  moment  during  his  intimacy  with  Jesus  discovered  im- 
posture, the  crafty  man  would  have  raised  his  own  reputa- 
tion and  acquitted  a  public  duty  in  surrendering  to  the 
State  a  dangerous  impostor;  while  the  credulous,  disap- 
pointed disciples,  ashamed  of  the  disgraceful  catastrophe  of 
the  wretch  whom  they  had  honored  as  Lord  and  master, 
would  have  turned  upon  the  corpse  in  silent  indignation, 
rather  than  carry  on  the  imposture  at  such  an  imminent 
hazard.  Otherwise,  defenceless  as  they  were,  they  must 
necessarily  have  effected  everything  by  the  force  of  speech. 
Destitute  of  the  swords  of  Ali  and  Omar,  and  hopeless  of 
the  rewards  of  those  conquering  proselytes,  the  humble  Gal- 
ileans had  to  support  two  of  the  most  difficult  problems  in 
nature,  —  the  divinity  of  a  man  who  had  been  crucified, 
and  his  resurrection  from  the  dead.  All  this,  without  any 
hope  of  reward,  either  in  this  world  or  the  next,  unless  we 
are  willing  to  suppose  the  barren  glory  of  martyrdom  in 


362     THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 

an  unholy  cause,  or  the  dubious  fame  of  giving  currency 
to  a  daring  imposture  could  influence  those  poor,  inconse- 
quential men.  To  suppose  this  would  surely  be  refining 
on  human  motives  beyond  common  experience. 

"  I  am  the  man,"  said  Jesus,  and  surrendered  himself. 
It  is  thought  to  be  greatly  to  the  honor  of  Socrates  that  he 
disdained  the  proposal  of  his  friends,  who  offered  the  means 
of  escape.  The  proposition  was  derogatory,  and  the  refusal 
claims  no  merit.  Socrates  was  constant  to  himself  (this  is 
high  praise)  ;  but  Socrates  could  not  conduct  himself  other- 
wise. There  are  certain  situations  in  which  great  men  are 
sometimes  placed  that  forbid  them  to  descend  from  their 
characters.  The  sick  lion  suffers  in  silence,  and  calmly 
parts  with  life  ;  and  the  eagle  in  his  descent  turns  his  head 
towards  the  sun.  It  was  impossible  for  Cato  to  live  under 
Caesar,  or  for  Brutus  to  live  under  Anthony.  In  our  own 
times  it  was  equally  impossible  for  the  virtuous  Moreau  to 
live  under  Buonaparte. 

The  situation  of  Jesus  Christ  was  different.  His  name 
had  not  become  familiar,  like  that  of  Socrates,  throughout 
the  world.  No  oracle  had  espoused  the  reputation  of  Jesus. 
His  fame  had  scarcely  reached  Rome,  and  that  in  a  private 
letter.  A  young  man  like  this  might  have  fled  from  perse- 
cution, though  capitally  condemned,  and  have  preserved  his 
credit.  To  Socrates  this  was  impossible.  He  could  have 
concealed  himself  among  the  Scythians,  yet  had  he  done 
so  the  fugitive  philosopher  would  have  forgotten  that  he 
was  once  Socrates.  Whereas  if  Jesus  had  fled,  his  more 
mature  years  might  honorably  have  retrieved  his  charac- 
ter ;  and  if  he  were  innocent,  it  was  his  duty  to  preserve 
himself,  if  possible,  in  order  to  illuminate  the  moral  world. 
Instead  of  which  he  flung  himself  away.  In  the  prime  of 
life,  without  an  effort,  he  flung  himself  away ;  and  with  all 
his  faculties  wrought  up  to  their  highest  tone,  he  died  in 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     363 

a  manner  too  unprecedented  to  bear  a  rational  discussion, 
unless  we  consider  him  an  unfortunate  adventurer.  Then 
the  question  which  has  raised  this  inquiry  offers  itself  :  If 
Jesus  Christ  was  an  impostor,  what  were  his  motives  ?  If 
he  was  an  enthusiast,  where  were  his  passions  ?  If  he  was 
a  hero,  where  was  his  sword  ? 

The  life  and  death  of  Jesus  have  marked  his  character 
with  too  much  precision  to  mistake  him  either  for  an  enthu- 
siast or  a  hero.  The  single  question  which  will  bear  an 
examination  is,  Was  he  a  god  or  an  impostor  ?  This  ques- 
tion, on  which  the  character  of  Jesus  must  forever  rest, 
remains  to  be  considered.  I  thought  it  more  illustrative 
and  more  logical  to  reserve  this  point  for  the  conclusion,  as 
the  preceding  remarks  on  his  life  and  conduct  have  natur- 
ally led  to  this  inquiry,  —  an  inquiry  which  is  exceedingly 
difficult,  and  which  allies  itself  to  the  feelings  or  interest  of 
most  men.  Hence  liberality  in  research  may  appear  like 
levity,  and  the  least  bias  will  look  like  bigotry.  This  in- 
quiry might  be  extended  to  any  length,  embracing  human 
nature  in  all  its  motives,  windings,  prepossessions  and 
self-delusions ;  but  the  general  reasoning  may  lie  confined 
to  a  narrow  compass. 

Mankind  have  been  detected  so  frequently  in  corrupt  mo- 
tives, and  have  so  often  suffered  a  dereliction  from  the 
avowed  ties  of  moral  necessity,  that  a  profession  of  virtue, 
to  the  busy  part  of  the  world,  has  become  more  odious 
than  even  wicked  principles  ;  as  herein  the  meanness  of 
duplicity  is  spared,  and  the  danger  of  deception  more  easily 
avoided.  So  that  the  cloak  of  virtue  has  become  the  baize 
shirt  of  the  sailor,  —  worn  in  winter  to  keep  out  the  cold, 
in  Bummer  to  keep  out  the  heat.  This  bias  of  mankind  to 
suspicion  is  further  strengthened  from  the  <lisgraceful  con- 
sideration, that  every  age,  when  time  has  illustrated  char- 


3C4     THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OP  JESUS  CIIKIST. 

acter  and  dimmed  the  glare  of  greatness,  has  erected  a  hun- 
dred gibbets  for  one  statue.  Hence  it  has  become  not  only 
8  speculative,  but  a  common  opinion,  that  extraordinary 
pretensions  ought  to  raise  extraordinary  suspicion.  This 
belief  is  likewise  strengthened  from  the  fact  that  those 
who  are  most  conversant  with  the  busy  world,  have  least 
.faith  in  their  fellow-men  ;  so  that  suspicion,  wariness,  and 
circumspection  have  long  since  become  a  branch  of  the 
minor  morals,  called  prudence,  caution,  and  self-defence. 

Nor  is  this  suspicion  confined  to  any  particular  class  of 
men ;  the  general  mass  of  mankind,  in  the  opinion  of  one 
another,  requires  incessant  watching.  This  suspicion  soon 
becomes  a  sentiment,  a  habit  of  feeling,  and  in  the  de- 
gree a  man's  own  head  becomes  gray,  he  thinks  worse 
of  his  gray-headed  neighbor.  Hence  in  the  opinion  of 
old  men,  the  last  generation  is  always  the  worst;  and  in 
their  fearful  apprehensions  the  end  of  the  world  is  ap- 
proaching,—  a  sentiment  that  forcibly  reveals  their  own 
depravity.  Fortunately,  men  rarely  live  a  hundred  years, 
and  more  fortunately  still,  they  lose  their  brightest  facul- 
ties long  before  that  period ;  otherwise  gray  hairs  and 
depravity  would  convey  a  like  import.  If  youth  is  less 
suspicious  and  less  suspected  than  age,  it  is  but  a  short 
credit,  which  a  little  experience  soon  cancels. 

Under  a  scrutiny  so  severe,  he  must  be  a  wonderful 
man  who,  rising  suddenly  from  private  life,  asserts  him- 
self a  public  reformer,  and  single-handed  tramples  on  a 
nation's  prejudices.  The  character  of  Jesus,  not  only  in 
his  own  day,  but  since,  has  borne  this  test,  —  the  test  of  a 
public  reformer,  and  a  man  of  exemplary  morals;  while 
the  charge  of  imposture  or  of  hypocrisy  has  never  been 
fairly  brought  home  to  him,  although  his  pretensions  were 
of  the  highest  nature,  and  were  considered  by  many  as 
proceeding  from  an  impious  arrogance. 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     365 

Imposture  lias  a  cloak  of  many  colors.  The  highest 
kind  of  imposture  is  political.  It  is  then  the  offspring 
of  a  determined  ambition,  compelled  for  a  time  to  smother 
its  fires.  When  successful,  it  is  connected  with  a  saga- 
cious mind,  steady  resolutions,  and  a  deep  knowledge  of 
its  own  times.  It  is  always  full  of  intrigue,  secrecy,  and 
boldness,  accompanied  with  many  of  the  best  qualities  of 
the  mind.  In  its  object  it  may  be  denned  as  "  corrupt 
views  to  a  corrupt  end.*'  Slow  and  calculating  in  its  op- 
erations, it  feels  its  way,  and  becomes  subservient  to  the 
times.  Unlike  hypocrisy,  which  requires  only  a  cloak, 
imposture,  more  active,  is  in  pursuit  of  some  great  end. 
In  the  degree  it  is  successful  it  ceases  to  be  impos- 
ture, by  reason  of  the  arduous  task  to  which  it  is  sub- 
jected; for  no  man  prefers  to  accomplish  by  fraud  wbat 
he  can  obtain  any  other  way.  We  find  that  impostors,  the 
moment  they  were  able,  have  universally  adopted  force 
instead  of  fraud ;  and  hence  the  proclamation  of  Ma- 
homet, in  the  full  tide  of  his  success :  "  The  sword  is 
the  key  to  heaven,  and  the  blood  of  the  faithful  will 
smell  to  heaven  more  odoriferous  than  frankincense." 
Unlike  enthusiasm,  which  carries  its  heart  in  its  head, 
and  presses  blindly  forward,  political  imposture  has  a 
tally  for  every  step.  The  Macedonian  and  the  Swede 
were  enthusiasts.  They  were  not  in  pursuit  of  enemies, 
but  objects  ;  otherwise  the  Scythian  and  the  Turk  would 
never  have  been  attacked.  Julius  Csesar  was  an  impostor 
from  the  beginning,  and  calmly  waited  thirty  years,  until 
the  sovereign  power,  fearful  of  a  renewal  of  the  days  of 
Marina  and  Sulla,  seemed  to  court  his  protection.  The 
modern  Attila  would  have  been  an  impostor  had  not  the 
exertion  of  an  opportune  force  on  his  part  and  the  love 
of  plunder  on  the  part  of  the  French  people  exhibited 
him  at  once  in  his  true  character. 


366      THE    HUMAN"    CHARACTER   OF   JESUS    CHRIST. 

Religious  imposture  is  more  direct  in  its  aim,  and  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  it  is  always  accompanied,  gives  it 
an  easy  currency,  and  sometimes,  in  the  end,  conceals 
from  itself  its  own  imposture.  It  is  necessary  that  it 
should  have  a  new  system  or  a  new  doctrine  to  support, 
otherwise  it  soon  loses  its  glow  of  enthusiasm,  and  then 
the  charm  dissolves. 

To  religious  imposture  an  era  of  ignorance  and  super- 
stition is  necessary.  An  enlightened  age  never  sees  an 
imposture  of  this  description ;  but  the  political  impostor 
will  seek  to  accomplish  his  purpose  in  any  state  of  society, 
and  is  most  successful  in  the  degeneracy  of  a  common- 
wealth. There  is  no  instance  of  a  successful  religious 
imposture  in  a  well-organized  society. 

Literary  imposture,  likewise,  delights  in  systems,  para- 
doxes, and  new  theories.  The  boldest  truths  are  often 
thrown  out  in  its  extravagant  pursuits.  This  species  of 
imposture  is  seldom  dangerous ;  its  object  is  only  a  sud- 
den and  novel  fame.  The  last  century  was  remarkable 
for  a  number  of  philosophic  impostors. 

If  Jesus  Christ  was  an  impostor,  he  was  doubtless  a 
political  impostor  ;  although  his  reserved  demeanor  and 
moral  discourses  exhibit  an  imposing  religious  aspect. 
That  grandeur  of  character,  those  strong  and  calm  traits, 
that  habitual  moderation  and  ready  eloquence,  that  com- 
mand over  others  in  his  most  passive  moments,  and  that 
eager  readiness  to  sympathize  with  the  unhappy,  which 
is  no  mark  of  ambition  or  of  enthusiasm,  never  yet  dis- 
tinguished a  religious  impostor.  If  tradition  has  given  to 
Mahomet  most  of  these  great  qualities,  history  has  also 
given  him  the  character  of  a  soldier  and  a  statesman. 
It  would  be  derogatory  to  the  abilities  of  Jesus  to  rank 
him  in  the  class  of  sectaries.  If  he  was  an  impostor, 
his  mysterious  carriage  and  public  discourses   were  well 


THE   HUMAN  CHARACTER   OF  JESUS   CHRIST.     367 

calculated  to  gain  an  ascendency  over  the  populace,  and 
this  ascendency  was  but  the  nearest  object  in  his  ex- 
panded view. 

Let  us  now  inquire  if  the  conduct  of  Jesus  can  fairly  be 
charged  with  imposture.  It  must  be  granted  that  his  life 
was  clouded  in  singular  mystery,  and  that  the  motives 
both  of  his  public  and  private  movements  were,  in  general, 
inexplicable  to  his  associates.  How  do  we  know  that  the 
Lmg  period  of  his  obscurity  was  not  consumed  in  the  con- 
templations of  future  aggrandizement  ?  How  do  we  know 
that  he  was  not  studying  the  character  of  his  times,  and 
cultivating  his  popular  talents  ?  In  retirement,  Mahomet 
formed  himself  into  the  future  prophet  of  Arabia  ;  with 
nobler  views,  and  though  under  the  imputation  of  idiot- 
ism,  the  elder  Brutus  was  successfully  planning  the  lib- 
erty of  his  country.  There  certainly  was,  both  in  that 
and  in  the  times  preceding  those  in  which  Jesus  flour- 
ished, every  inducement  for  political  adventurers.  The 
public  mind  was  ready  to  encourage  the  most  daring 
pretensions.  A  long-expected  and  powerful  captain  was 
to  protect  their  declining  fortunes  in  those  particulars 
so  interesting  to  all  men,  —  politics  and  religion.  In  the 
ardor  of  expectation,  the  public  was  ready  to  add  inspira- 
tion to  the  enthusiasts,  and  the  most  active  powers  of 
God  to  the  impostor.  The  national  ambition  was  inter- 
ested, and  the  public,  when  they  please,  can  deify.  In 
such  times  a  great  man  scarcely  earns  his  greatness  :  the 
public  anticipate  him.  In  all  probability  had  another 
great  man,  a  crafty,  prudent  man,  like  Sertorius,  declared 
himself  in  opposition  to  Jesus,  Sertorius  had  preceded  in 
public  confidence  the  more  unassuming  Nazarene.  Hence, 
in  this  respect,  Jesus  had  much  the  advantage  of  Ma- 
homet. It  was  the  first  concern  of  the  Arabian  to  pre- 
pare the  public  mind ;  whereas  Jesus,  had  his  pretensions 


3G8     THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST. 

been  even  more  suspicious,  could  not  have  anticipated  the 
wishes  of  his  nation. 

If  the  times  were  thus  favorable  to  an  impostor,  and  if 
the  private  life  of  Jesus  is  not  without  suspicion,  bis  public 
conduct  is  not  wholly  free  from  mystery. 

Why  did  he  associate  from  the  beginning  with  that 
class  of  people  who  in  a  degenerate  state  of  society  con- 
sider themselves  outlaws  from  the  community,  with  a 
people  so  fond  of  adventure  that  it  required  only  a  beckon- 
ing to  lead  some  of  them  in  his  train,  and  only  a  single 
discourse  to  fix  them  as  partisans  ?  Why  did  he  select 
those  who,  though  they  left  all,  left  nothing  ?  He  had  an 
opportunity  of  winning  one  young  man  of  great  posses- 
sions,—  an  ingenuous  young  man,  naturally  disposed  to  vir- 
tue. Him  he  laid  under  what,  at  least  in  this  age,  may  be 
called  an  impossible  restriction  ;  and  the  young  man  went 
away  sorrowful.  Nor,  if  we  judge  that  age  by  our  own, 
ought  it  to  seem  extraordinary  that  the  rich,  to  whom  Jesus 
showed  no  courtesy,  refused  to  mingle  with  a  collection  of 
people  who  seemed  to  hold  in  contempt  that  selfishness 
which  the  usual  laws  of  property  inculcate.  The  rich  hate 
abstract  equality.  On  the  contrary,  if  Jesus  was  an  im- 
postor, he  wisely  discountenanced  the  rich  and  the  great. 
These  are  generally  timid,  and  can  seldom  be  depended 
on  in  the  moment  of  emergency.  Whereas  those  who  fol- 
lowed Jesus,  having  once  pledged  themselves,  were  retained 
from  personal  considerations.  Danger,  far  from  dissipa- 
ting, would  unite  them ;  fear  would  give  courage,  and 
instant  ruin,  intrepidity. 

There  are  a  few  other  circumstances  attending  the  public 
life  of  Jesus,  not  wholly  without  example  in  the  lives  of 
other  great  men.  His  retirement  to  the  mountains  for 
forty  days  gave  an  unnecessary  mystery  to  his  character, 
already  mysterious  in  the  eyes  of  his  own  disciples.    Yet  it 


THE  HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     369 

must  be  confessed  that  the  comparatively  enlightened  age 
of  Jndea  would  have  rendered  this  secrecy  impolitic  in  an 
impostor.  Temporary  retirement  is  a  device  worthy  of  a 
dark  or  superstitious  age  only.  Numa  Pompilius,  no  douht 
an  excellent  man,  gained  much  of  his  consequence  from 
the  Egerian  grove  ;  and  the  secluded  character  of  Mahomet 
threw  a  ray  of  divinity  over  the  impostor.  Lycurgus,  too, 
offers  an  incident  similar  to  one  which  is  said  to  have  hap- 
pened to  Jesus.  The  oracle  pronounced  Lycurgus  "  Beloved 
of  the  gods,  and  a  god  rather  than  a  man."  A  voice,  too, 
proclaimed:  "This  is  my  heloved  son  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased."  The  sacred  birds  of  the  Romans,  and  the  holy 
dove  afford  but  a  partial  resemblance ;  and  likewise  the 
dove  and  the  milk-white  hind  of  Sertorius.  The  entry 
of  Jesus  into  the  temple  and  the  expulsion  of  the  mer- 
chants bear  a  strong  likeness  to  the  entry  of  Cromwell 
into  the  British  parliament.  These  particulars  are  more 
striking  in  contrast  with  the  general  simplicity  of  the 
carriage  and  conduct  of  Jesus. 

To  all  this  and  much  more  which  might  be  objected,  I 
will  only  reply,  that  Jesus  Christ,  if  he  was  an  impostor, 
was  of  all  men  most  weak,  inefficient,  and  wrong-headed. 
Of  this  his  early  death  and  uniform  eccentricity  are  suffi- 
cient proof.  On  the  contrary,  if  he  was  not  an  impostor, 
he  may  be  considered  successful  in  an  eminent  degree. 
Not  Alexander,  who  in  the  intoxication  of  pride  forgot  his 
father  Philip,  allied  himself  so  equally  to  the  Great  First 
Cause  as  did  the  Nazarene  in  his  sober  senses,  and  in  his 
most  unpromising  circumstances.  Yet  Philip,  though  a 
conqueror,  whose  head  above  the  clouds  became  giddy 
from  its  own  height,  and  whose  eyes,  dazzled  by  the  splen- 
dor of  his  own  glory,  saw  not  the  devastation  which  the 
print  of  his  feet  left  behind,  was  but  a  laughing-stock  in  his 
pretensions  to  his  own  creatures  and  bacchanals,  while  the 
24 


370     THE   HUMAN    CHARACTER  OF  JESUS   CHRIST. 

Nazarene,  ready  to  become  the  servant  of  all,  at  the  same 
moment  challenged  unlimited  faith  to  his  sublime  affin- 
ity. Therefore  if  Jesus  was  an  impostor,  he  was  doubtless 
unsuccessful.  But  if  he  was  not  an  impostor,  it  is  too 
much  to  say  he  did  not  attain  his  object  ;  especially  as 
he  himself  indicated  as  much  in  his  last  expression,  "  It 
is  finished." 

Who  will  say  that  Jesus  was  either  a  weak  man  or  ineffi- 
cient in  his  purposes  ?  That  he  was  wrong-headed  cannot 
be  disputed  with  the  money  schemers,  the  ambitious,  and 
the  calculators  on  time  and  chance.  But,  however  shiftless 
Jesus  may  seem  to  the  man  of  the  world,  and  however  weak 
and  unsuccessful  he  may  appear  to  the  politician,  the  mys- 
terious and  instant  command  that  he  exercised  over  his 
numerous  followers,  himself  professedly  the  humblest  of 
all,  sufficiently  marks  the  strength  and  power  of  his  charac- 
ter. Nor  was  he  by  any  means  destitute  of  address  and 
knowledge  of  the  world.  His  conduct  in  several  in- 
stances will  best  illustrate  this  strength  of  mind  and 
ready  judgment. 

His  decision  on  the  question  of  the  tribute  money,  and 
his  rebuke  to  the  hasty  Peter,  when  he  drew  his  sword  on 
the  servant  of  the  high  priest,  display  a  quick-  and  prudent 
judgment.  But  his  question  to  the  Jews  on  the  baptism  of 
John,  surpasses  in  sagacity  anything  related  of  Socrates  in 
throwing  his  adversaries  into  a  dilemma.  His  reply  to 
those  who  questioned  the  propriety  of  plucking  the  £ars  of 
corn  on  the  Sabbath,  is  a  memorable  instance  of  temperate 
reproach.  The  young  man,  too,  who  went  away  sorrowful, 
was  the  best  possible  illustration  of  the  doctrine  of  grace 
inculcated  by  Jesus. 

With  such  faculties,  all-essential  to  an  impostor,  and  such 
as  might  have  commanded  success  in  any  of  the  usual  pur- 
suits of  ambition,  Jesus,  although  a  public  man,  preserved 


THE   HUMAN   CHARACTER  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.     371 

his  original  poverty,  sought  no  offices,  solicited  no  friends, 
deprecated  no  enemies,  and  still  claimed  a  share  of  the 
Godhead.  Although  he  persevered  in  this  celestial  claim, 
he  carried  himself  with  so  much  meekness  and  humility 
that  his  public  conduct  was  marked  by  no  human  motive ; 
for  so  little  selfishness  did  the  tenor  of  his  life  exhibit, 
that  his  predominant  passion  was  a  secret  to  his  own  dis- 
ciples :  so  if  Jesus  Christ  was  an  impostor,  we  may  boldly 
declare  that  the  secret  of  his  imposture  was  buried  with 
him  in  his  grave. 

If  such  had  been  the  extraordinary  life  of  any  other  per- 
son, his  death  would  properly  conclude  the  subject ;  but  the 
life  of  this  man,  however  uncommon,  bears  no  parallel  with 
his  wonderful  destiny,  —  a  destiny,  which  had  it  been  dis- 
tinctly foretold  in  his  own  life-time,  would  have  required, 
perhaps,  as  much  faith  to  have  believed  it  then,  as  is  noio 
required  for  belief  in  the  record  of  the  evangelists.  When 
the  dead  body  of  this  crucified  person  was  exposed  to  the 
populace,  could  the  faith  of  man  be  more  severely  tried 
than  in  listening  to  the  story  of  his  future  destiny  ?  It  is 
by  no  means  incredible  that  a  Jew  who  had  declared  him- 
self the  Son  of  God,  yet  being  incompetent  to  support  his 
sublime  pretensions,  should  lose  his  character,  and  sink  be- 
low the  ordinary  reputation  of  malefactors.  But  at  that 
period  it  must  have  seemed  incredible  to  all  men  that  this 
person,  whose  fate  was  so  contemptible  that  it  did  not  ex- 
cite the  common  sympathy  of  humanity,  should  soar  from  a 
gibbet  to  the  throne  of  God,  should  enjoy  a  co-equality  with 
the  creator  of  the  universe,  and  in  the  opinion  of  succes- 
sive generations,  should  partake  of  divine  honors  both  on 
earth  and  to  heaven.  Wonderful  destiny  !  that  a  man  who 
when  among  his  fellows  had  no  home,  and  when  dead  was 
beholden  to  the  kind  offices  of  a  stranger  for  his  interment, 
should,  in  leaving  his  miserable  garments,  his  coat  without 


372     THE    HUMAN    CHARACTER   OF   JESUS   CHRIST. 

a  scam,  to  be  divided  among  his  executioners,  ascend  within 
three  days  to  heaven  amidst  a  host  of  angels,  to  be  wel- 
comed to  the  throne  of  the  Most  High  God !  Wonderful 
destiny  !  that  such  a  man,  once  the  contempt  of  the  world, 
and  apparently  deserted  both  by  heaven  and  earth,  should 
become  the  vehicle  of  all  the  hopes  of  the  children  of 
Adam;  and  through  every  succeeding  age,  whether  dark  or 
enlightened,  whether  superstitious  or  philosophical,  should 
enjoy,  as  well  in  the  palaces  of  kings  as  in  the  cottages  of  the 
poor,  the  real  or  pretended  worship  of  whole  nations. 

Such  is  the  destiny  of  Jesus  Christ,  a  man  above  all 
others  mysterious  in  his  life,  singular  in  the  circumstances 
of  his  death,  and  wonderful  after  his  death  from  the  influ- 
ence of  his  character  on  the  most  enlightened  parts  of 
the  world. 


AN 

ORATION, 

PRONOUNCED    AT 

CHARLESTOWN, 

AT    THE    REQUEST    OF    THE 

ARTILLERY   COMPANY, 


SEVENTEENTH    OF     JUNE  ,     BEING    THE    ANNIVERSARY    OF 

THE    BATTLE   OF    BUNKER'S  HILL,    AND 

OF    THAT    COMPANY. 


How  deep  the  brave  who  fink  to  reft 
With  all  their  country's  honors  blelt ! 

—  Collins. 


THE    RUINS    OF   OUR    HABITATIONS   AND    ALTARS    MAY   ARISE    IN 

TEN     FOLD    SPLENDOR,  —  NOT    SO    OUR     LIBERTIES  — 

ONCE    GONE,    THEY    ARE     LOST     FOREVER  ! 


By  WILLIAM  AUSTIN,  A.  B. 

Cljarltrtofart  : 
Printed  by  SAMUEL  ETHERIDGE. 


CHARLESTOWN,  Wednesdav  Afternoon,  June  17th,  1801. 

'"THE  Subscribers,  a  committee  in  behalf  of  the  Artillery  Com- 
pany of  Charlesioum,  beg  leave  to  express  to  you,  sir,  their 
thanks  for  the  eloquent  and  patriotic  Oration  which  you  pronounced 
by  their  desire  this  day,  and  request  a  copy  for  the  press;  it  being 
the  unanimous  vote  of  the  Company. 

joseph  miller, 
john  carter. 
Wh.  h.  manning. 
Wm.  wood. 
JOSIAH   HARRIS. 
Mr.  Wm.  AUSTIN. 


Gentlemen  : 

The  candor  which  you  have  already  exercised,  is  again  requested; 
conscious  of  the  rectitude  of  principle  which  influences  the  following 
pages,  I  have  only  to  apologize  to  the  court  of  criticism. 
/  am,  with  much  respect, 

your  humble  servant, 

Wm.  AUSTIN. 
Capt.  Miller. 

Lieuts.  Carter  and  Manning. 
Messrs.  Wm.  Wood,  Josiah  Harris. 


AN  ORATION. 


AMERICANS,  fellow-citizeus,  freemen !  The  respect 
which  a  people  pays  to  the  memory  of  those  who 
purchased  their  freedom  is  the  standard  of  their  own  worth. 
That  nation  is  still  free  when  the  people  dare  assert  that 
their  fathers  were  free.  If  they  know  how  to  confess  their 
principles,  they  are  not  dead  to  their  influence. 

In  obedience  to  the  laudable  custom  of  our  country, 
and  to  the  wishes  of  a  respectable  portion  of  our  citi- 
zens, we  have  assembled  on  this  anniversary  to  honor 
the  principle,  to  celebrate  the  deeds,  to  mourn  the  memo- 
ries, but  to  glory  in  the  fate  of  those  who  died  for  their 
country.  The  occasion,  the  subject,  the  principle,  the 
scene,  are  all  sublime,  and  worthy  the  highest  style  of 
freemen.  For  if  there  can  possibly  be  an  occurrence  ca- 
pable of  abstracting  man  from  every  selfish  relation  and 
transporting  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  humanity  to  new 
and  nobler  sensations,  it  must  be  like  the  present ;  if 
there  be  a  subject  capable  of  fixing  transitory  emotions, 
of  rousing  the  slumbering  spirit  of  our  country's  love, 
and  of  reminding  a  nation  of  the  first  motives  which  in- 
duced the  assertion  of  their  rights,  it  must  be  like  the 
present ;  if  there  be  a  certain  principle  thought  sometimes 
to  inhabit  mortality,  and  whose  presence  these  heights,  we 
believe,  once  witnessed,  if  its  influence  be  not  departed,  let 
this  day  fix  it  forever !  If  there  be  a  scene  in  Nature  from 
which  the  patriot  youth  would  wish  to  receive  his  first  im- 
pressions of  a  virtuous  emulation,  or  from  which  the  poet 


376  AN  ORATION. 

would  wish  to  insure  his  own  immortality,  or  which  the 
pencil  of  Trumbull  would  not  disdain  to  color,  or  lastly, 
in  which  the  war-worn  veteran  would  wish  to  find  a  grave, 
—  here  lies  that  scene  ! 

Fellow-citizens !  the  present  occasion  offers  a  subject  on 
which  I  know  your  sentiments  will  all  accord  —  for  who  is 
here  who  does  not  love  his  country  ?  —  a  subject,  the  in- 
cidents of  which  will  awaken  the  ready  sympathy  of  every 
bosom ;  a  subject  which  ought  to  melt  the  frost  of  age, 
and  cause  the  current  of  its  blood  to  ebb  back  to  the 
days  of  '75 ;  a  subject  which,  I  trust,  will  renovate  those 
feelings  which  inspired,  and  strengthen  those  principles 
which  asserted  us,  freemen.  Therefore,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, let  us  give  the  present  times  to  oblivion  ;  let  us 
forget  the  intermediate  days  that  are  passed,  lest  a  dis- 
cordant idea  should  break  the  charm ;  let  us  consider 
ourselves  for  a  few  moments  —  it  is  but  a  fiction  —  the 
subjects  of  England,  and  become  spectators  of  that  scene 
which  we  are  so  justly  proud  to  celebrate,  and  in  which 
some  of  you  were  actors. 

The  situation  of  our  country  at  the  period  we  now 
contemplate,  demanded  the  united  energies  of  man ;  yet 
such  was  the  discord  of  opposing  interests  that  the  wisest 
cautiously  adopted,  or  even  positively  mistrusted,  their  own 
counsels,  while  the  bravest  either  stifled  or  denied  their 
own  feelings.  The  whole  country  appeared  to  be  without 
any  distinct  or  particular  object.  Resistance  was  thought 
intemperate  rashness ;  a  separation  from  the  mother  coun- 
try was  a  novel  idea,  and  listened  to  with  alarm  and 
surprise.  The  whispers  of  independence  were  treated  as 
the  effusions  of  madness  and  desperation.  Compare  the 
two  countries,  it  was  repeatedly  urged.  In  one  you  be- 
hold riches,  power,  unlimited  credit,  and  the  vigor  of  a 
strong  and  well  consolidated  government;    in  the  other, 


AN  ORATION.  377 

poverty,  weakness,  distraction,  and  distrust.  In  the  one 
you  behold  a  self-supported  and  conquering  nation,  fresh 
from  the  field  of  victory,  in  whose  presence  Europe  trem- 
bles, at  whose  feet  France  and  Spain  are  still  humbled ;  in 
the  other,  the  feeble  and  abortive  exertions  of  imbecility. 
In  the  one  you  behold  Hercules  in  the  strength  of  man- 
hood ;  in  the  other,  the  infant  of  yesterday.  The  first 
blow  which  the  enemy  will  strike,  will  annihilate  your 
commerce,  dry  up  the  sources  of  subsistence,  wither  every 
nerve  of  opposition,  and  insulate  you  from  every  foreign 
succor.  Wage  a  war  with  England !  England  will  not 
believe  you  to  be  in  earnest ;  England  has  still  so  much 
regard  for  your  welfare  as  to  lament  the  madness  of  the 
enterprise.  To  her  a  tedious  war  might  be  ruinous;  to 
America  it  must  be  fatal.  In  addition  to  all  this,  the 
terrors  and  consequences  of  rebellion  were  impressed  on 
our  minds,  and  new  chains  shaken  over  our  heals. 

The  moment  was  now  hastening  when  the  overflowing 
waters  of  bitterness  threatened  to  swallow  the  whole  coun- 
try. A  last  and  solemn  appeal  is  made  to  Heaven,  to  Eng- 
land, to  the  world.  Heaven  and  earth,  England  excepted, 
heard  our  appeal,  acknowledged  our  reasons,  and  justified 
our  measures.  "What  were  those  demands  that  England 
perseveringly  refused  until  compelled  to  grant,  together 
with  all  her  empire  over  these  States  ?  They  were  surely 
not  unreasonable ;  as  subjects  of  England  we  only  de- 
manded the  rights  of  Englishmen.  These  were  refused. 
Though  England  herself  at  this  time  was  the  freest  na- 
tion on  the  globe,  yet  like  the  Spartans,  free  herself,  she 
wished  to  enslave  others.  Sparta  had  her  helots.  England 
emulated  Sparta;  and  we,  —  ought  we  to  restrain  our  in- 
dignation?—  we  were  doomed  to  be  English  helot-! 

The  moment  arrives  when  military  power  wantons  over 
our  land,  and  oppression  becomes   multiform.     Now  rises 


378  AN  ORATION. 

the  spirit  of  the  country.  Now  appears  man  in  his  greatest 
glory,  struggling  against  inexorable  misfortune.  Now  are 
realized  those  scenes  which  degenerate  ages  had  sullied 
as  fictitious.  Now  oppression  is  risen  to  its  height.  Now 
is  offered  the  last  alternative ;  the  sword  in  one  hand, 
chains  in  the  other.  It  is  no  time  for  counsel  now  ;  the 
present  sensation  disdains  reflection.  Interest,  prudence, 
calculation,  consequences,  where  are  they  ?  Forgotten  or 
despised.  The  breast  is  made  bare  to  the  sword ;  the 
chains  are  hurled  back  in  defiance.  England,  we  appeal 
to  thee  once  more,  are  we  not  worthy  the  British  name ; 
do  we  not  merit  the  name  of  freemen  ?  Then  recall  thy 
troops,  disband  thy  armies,  liberalize  thy  policy,  ameliorate 
thy  exactions,  give  us  back  our  liberties.  It  is  not  yet  too 
late  ;  sheathe  thy  sword  ere  it  be  stained  in  our  blood,  and 
all  may  be  well.  Still  inexorable  !  Must  our  blood  flow  ? 
Then  let  it  flow,  even  to  the  last  drop ;  let  it  be  poured 
out  profusely  ;  let  its  stains  be  indelible  ;  let  it  redden 
the  whole  land  ;  but  it  shall  be  mingled  with  the  blood 
of  our  enemies. 

There  are  certain  moments  when  it  may  be  prudent  to 
act  without  any  regard  to  circumstances ;  when  reason  will 
embarrass  and  reflection  confuse.  The  present  moment 
must  be  instantly  seized,  and  stamped  with  its  appropriate 
image,  or  in  the  next  it  will  fade  and  become  indistinct. 
Such  moments  are  rare,  deeply  interesting,  and  always  par- 
take of  the  great  and  sublime.  Such  a  moment  is  the 
present,  big  with  defeat,  disgrace,  bondage ;  or  victory, 
glory,  freedom.  A  moment  similar  to  this  our  country 
anticipated.  The  moment  arrives  ;  the  case  is  desperate,  all 
is  involved ;  in  an  instant  the  die  will  be  cast  and  destiny 
irrevocable.  A  moment  like  this  might  well  arrest  the 
notice  of  man,  for  it  involved  the  dearest  principle  of  the 
human  breast.     Europe  did  pause ;  it  was  a  pause  honor- 


AX  ORATION.  379 

able  to  humanity.  She  fixed  on  us  her  undivided  attention, 
and  gave  us  her  best  wishes.  Her  slaves  feeling  their  own 
chains  lighter,  kindled  into  sympathy,  and  must  have  ex- 
perienced a  transitory  sentiment  of  liberty.  Now  are  our 
enemies  in  imagination  triumphant,  while  our  friends 
tremble  for  the  result.  Both  are  equally  astonished ;  the 
fleeting  moment  of  our  destiny  is  seized  and  immortal- 
ized. Regardless  of  consequences,  regardless  of  circum- 
stances, regardless  of  life,  all  is  hazarded.  The  first  vein 
which  the  enemy  opens  is  to  bleed  seven  years,  and  the 
rankling  wound  is  perhaps  never  to  heal.  An  arduous  war- 
fare is  essayed  which  might  have  appalled  the  hearts  of  the 
stoutest  myrmidons  of  Achilles.  Still  regardless  of  conse- 
quences, the  emergency  demands,  and  every  friend  to  his 
country  becomes,  a  soldier,  and  every  soldier  a  hero. 

Is  this  truth,  my  fellow-citizens  ?  If  not,  contradict 
me.  I  speak  in  the  presence  of  those  who  acted  .what  I 
am  describing.  Am  I  painting  scenes  which  never  existed  ? 
Xo ;  here  stands  one  monument  of  them.  Am  I  relating 
the  deeds  of  a  distant  age*  obscured  by  fable,  magnified  by 
reason  of  their  obscurity,  and  embellished  in  the  wanton- 
ness of  imagination  ?  Xo  ;  I  dare  not  depart  from  truth. 
The  date  of  these  incidents  is  too  recent,  and  the  incidents 
themselves  too  forcibly  impressed  on  your  memories  to 
bear  the  slightest  exaggeration.  The  exploits  of  a  Jason, 
of  an  Agamemnon,  of  a  Theseus  and  others,  may  well  sur- 
prise, it  being  uncertain  if  such  characters  ever  existed. 
Fable  is  ever  fruitful,  and  delights  in  the  marvellous.  An 
extraordinary  man  becomes  a  hero  after  his  death ;  and 
perhaps  in  the  next  age  this  hero  becomes  a  god.  Our 
felicity  is  consummate.  While  we  relate  the  deeds,  we  can 
point  to  the  place,  we  can  particularize  the  moment,  we 
can  show  the  graves  of  the  slain,  we  can  produce  their 
bones,  —  nay,  more  ;  we  can  produce  the  living  characters 


380  AN  ORATION. 

which  the  grave  has  kindly  spared,  some  of  them  to  par- 
ticipate in  those  blessings  which  their  sublime  labors 
purchased  for  their  posterity. 

The  blood  of  our  brethren  which  is  first  offered  on  the 
altar  of  oppression,  at  the  shrine  of  a  fancied  parliamentary 
omnipotence, — -that  blood  is  not  lost;  it  animates  every 
bosom,  it  circulates  in  every  vein,  it  mollifies  every  humor, 
it  harmonizes  the  whole  system.  Already  are  the  colonies 
united ;  jealousies,  aversions,  local  prejudices,  partial  at- 
tachments, all  vanish.  Customs,  manners,  forms  of  gov- 
ernments, religions,  all  assimilate.  The  flame  of  patriot- 
ism spreads  from  breast  to  breast,  from  colony  to  colony, 
acquires  new  strength  in  passing,  and  glows  with  equal 
splendor  in  the  South  and  North.  The  echoes  of  liberty 
and  of  our  country's  love  rebound  from  the  mountains  of 
Vermont,  shake  the  plains  of  the  lowlands,  and  bound 
back  from  distant  Georgia.  Already  are  the  tics  of  con- 
nection between  the  two  countries  dissolved.  Now  in 
reality  the  broad  Atlantic  rolls  between  us  ;  we  are  already 
the  United  States,  we  are  already  independent.  We  need 
not  wait  for  the  Declaration,  —  independence  is  already 
declared;  the  war  is  finished,  —  America  is  conqueror. 
We  are  no  longer  subjects,  but  citizens ;  no  longer  slaves, 
but  freemen. 

England,  farewell !  Thy  influence  is  gone  ;  thy  empire  is 
departed.  Now  look  to  thyself,  England  !  Why  wilt  thou 
lavish  thy  blood  and  treasure  ?  Are  the  lives  of  fifty  thou- 
sand of  fchy  subjects  nothing?  Are  one  hundred  millions 
of  treasure  nothing  ?  Oh,  madness  !  that  treasure  which  is 
lavished  on  our  chains  will  burden  thy  own  subjects  even 
to  slavery.  Look  to  thyself,  England !  Avert,  if  possible, 
thy  own  disgrace  ;  save  at  least  the  wreck  of  thy  fortunes. 
Why  wilt  thou  hazard  in  America  those  laurels  which  thy 
Edward  and  Henry  won  at  the  battles  of  Cr6cy  and  Agin- 


AN  ORATION.  381 

court  in  France  '?  Save  thyself,  then.  Recall  thy  troops ; 
it  is  not  yet  too  late  to  save  thyself.  Tempt  us  no  farther. 
We  do  not  thirst  for  the  blood  of  our  brethren  ;  but  tempt 
us  no  further.  In  vain!  Still  inexorable!  Still  deaf  to 
the  omens  of  the  departing  shade  of  thy  own  glory !  Oh, 
heavens !  we  have  the  secret,  —  England  believes  us 
cowards  ! 1  This  is  too  much.  If  we  could  forget  the 
great  principle  which  inspires  us,  we  would  forgive  thee, 
England,  all  thy  oppressions  ;  we  would  despise  all  the 
injuries  we  have  received :  we  would  forgive  thee  that 
blood  which  thou  hast  already  shed :  this  insult  should 
annihilate  every  other  passion,  and  we  would  bring  the 
issue  to  this  point,  —  "  whether  or  not  we  are  cowards !  " 

Never  until  this  moment  did  I  wish  myself  an  English- 
man. Pardon  this  seeming  impropriety.  At  present, 
would  to  God  I  were  an  Englishman,  and  one  of  those 
who  fought  on  these  heights.  Then  might  I  be  permitted, 
■without  a  suspicion  of  partiality,  to  attempt  a  description, 
the  merits  of  which  you  arc  ready  to  submit  to  the  preju- 
dices of  an  enemy.  Then  might  I  be  allowed  a  statement 
of  facts  which  personal  feeling  would  forbid  to  embellish, 
but  which  honor  would  constrain  to  submit  to  truth.  Then 
might  I  be  allowed,  if  my  feeble  hand  could  restrain  the 
daring  pencil,  to  sketch  the  outlines  of  an  action  which 
should  be  painted  with  the  same  passion  with  which  it  was 
fought. 

But  this  cannot  be.  Therefore  let  the  veil  of  modesty  be 
drawn  around  this  scene  ;  let  a  simple  recital  of  the  deeds 
of  that  day  be  whispered  in  the  softest  strains  of  modera- 
tion ;  let  us  lull  all  our  passions  to  a  calm  ;  let  our  wounds 
cease  to  rankle ;  let  us  conceal  our  scars  ;  let  all  our  enmi- 
ties be  forgotten  ;  let  the  grass  wave  over  this  blood-stained 

1  It  had  been  asserted  in  Parliament  that  the  Americans  were  cowards, 
and  Burgoyne  demanded  only  ten  thousand  men  to  conquer  the  country. 


382  AN  ORATION. 

scene,  and  hide  its  crimson  soil  from  our  eyes  ;  let  us  not 
regard  the  flames  of  our  habitations,  nor  the  impious  burn- 
ing of  our  altars,  —  new  altars  shall  be  reared  to  our  God, 
new  hosannas  be  proclaimed  in  new  tabernacles.  In  this 
temper  let  us  tread  the  spot  to  view  the  heights,  to  con- 
template the  action,  to  remark  the  circumstances,  and  to 
inquire  the  result.  Let  us  be  more  than  just ;  let  us  be 
generous.  It  is  not  inglorious  to  praise  an  enemy  ;  it  is 
not  beneath  the  dignity  of  humanity  to  weep  over  his  re- 
mains. Then  let  us  modestly  hold  the  pencil,  and  trust  to 
his  generosity  to  color  the  picture. 

On  the  night  preceding  the  seventeenth  of  June  our 
countrymen,  in  expectation  of  a  new  and  awful  scene,  pos- 
sessed themselves  of  these  heights.  The  appeal  to  the 
sword  had  been  made  in  the  last  resort.  We  had  purified 
ourselves  from  the  blood  of  our  brethren  ;  and  conscious 
innocency  disclaimed  all  responsibility  for  the  conse- 
quences. Under  the  command  of  General  Putnam,  a  hasty 
fort,  breast  high,  was  raised  with  an  expedition  which 
spoke  a  resolute  and  determined  spirit.  The  dawn  dis- 
covered to  the  enemy  the  busy  preparation.  Several  Brit- 
ish men-of-war  had  been  stationed  in  our  harbor.  These, 
in  merriment  and  recreation,  undertook  to  dislodge  the 
Americans,  and  demolish  their  fort.  In  the  estimation  of 
the  enemy,  the  appearance  of  the  Americans  on  these 
heights  was  a  bravado.  When  they  discovered  their  mis- 
take, they  considered  themselves  insulted  ;  at  length  they 
condescended  to  resolve  the  insult  into  a  challenge.  Plowe, 
the  British  general,  was  ordered  by  Gage,  the  commander- 
in-chief,  to  drive  the  rebels  from  their  post.  There  were 
at  this  time,  not  more  than  one  thousand  of  our  country- 
men on  these  heights ;  yet  the  prudence  of  the  British 
general  marshalled  thrice  the  number  to  oppose  us,  the 
flower  of  his  army.     He  knew  the  force  of  first  impres- 


AN  ORATION.  383 

sions  on  soldiers.  If  the  ground  should  unexpectedly  be 
disputed,  if  possibly  a  battle  should  be  fought,  it  was  all 
important  in  its  consequences  that  on  this  occasion  the 
troops  of  Britain  should  prove  invincible ;  and  that  in  every 
future  contest  Bunker's  Hill  should  be  to  them  the  paean 
of  victory,  to  us  the  dispiriting  omen  of  defeat.  Awful 
alternative !  The  unsuspected  bravery,  the  prescriptive 
valor  of  the  British  veteran  is  to  be  successfully  disputed, 
or  the  name  of  American  to  be  disgraced,  the  rights  of 
humanity  to  be  derided,  and  the  liberties  of  three  millions 
to  be  suspended  in  still  darker  uncertainty  ! 

Our  countrymen  await  the  approach  of  the  enemy,  lately 
their  fellow-subjects,  perhaps  their  brethren.  The  regu- 
larity, the  order,  the  silence,  the  discipline,  the  dress,  the 
slow  but  undaunted  motion,  above  all  the  reputation  of 
the  British,  add  dignity  to  valor,  and  cannot  but  affect  the 
minds  of  those  who,  educated  far  from  the  noise  of  war, 
never  perhaps  in  imagination  formed  a  scene  like  the 
present.  Unfortunate  Americans !  you  have  to  combat 
not  only  Englishmen,  but  what  is  still  more  arduous,  your 
own  prejudices,  —  prejudices  which  yourselves  have  cul- 
tivated and  fondly  cherished ;  prejudices  which  similar- 
ity of  language,  laws,  customs,  manners,  and  every  rela- 
tion, commercial  or  political,  have  entwined  round  your 
hearts,  and  confirmed  into  sacred  principles.  No  wonder 
if  the  Americans,  tremblingly  alive  to  such  emotions,  had 
been  completely  vanquished,  not  by  the  enemy,  but  like 
that  early  Roman  1  who,  persecuted,  oppressed,  and  driven 
from  his  native  Rome,  waged  war  to  avenge  his  wrongs ; 
but  in  the  moment  of  combat,  affection  resigned  him  a 
prisoner  to  his  country.  No  wonder  if  these  vital  prin- 
ciples had  involuntarily  moved  them  to  avert  the  mur- 
dering firearm  from  the  hearts  of  the  enemy.     No  wonder 

1  Coriolanns. 


384  AN  ORATION. 

if  humanity  bad  unnerved  the  uplifted  arm,  and  paralyzed 
every  effort.  No  wonder  if  our  countrymen  had  forgotten 
both  themselves  and  posterity.  But  the  principle  for 
which  they  contended  was  too  sublime  to  descend  to 
mortal  feelings. 

The  enemy  with  a  firm  step  and  collected  countenance 
slowly,  but  resolutely,  drew  near  the  redoubt.  The  heights 
of  Boston  and  of  the  neighboring  towns  were  covered  with 
spectators  panting  high  for  the  result ;  while  the  reflection 
that  a  friend,  a  brother,  a  son,  or  a  father  might  fall  in 
the  action,  solemnized  the  scene.  The  enemy  are  permitted 
to  approach  until  the  deadly,  unerring  weapon  is  certain  of 
destruction.  Now  begins  the  conflict.  The  fire  from  the 
ships,  batteries,  and  field-artillery  of  the  enemy  adds  variety 
to  death.  At  this  moment,  to  heighten  the  horrors  of  the 
day,  the  whole  town  is  seen  to  ascend  in  one  vast  volume 
of  fire.  Whom  the  enemy  spares,  the  flames  threaten ; 
whom  the  flames  spare,  the  fire  of  the  enemy  threatens. 
Here  is  an  aged  parent  like  old  Anchiscs  escaping  from 
the  flames  on  the  shoulders  of  his  son.  There  is  a  dis- 
tracted mother  inquiring  after  her  lost  child.  Here  is  a 
wife,  already  widowed,  seeking  her  dead  husband.  There 
is  another  in  worse  extremity,  overburdened  with  three  chil- 
dren, only  two  of  whom  she  can  carry,  —  the  third  is  left 
behind.  The  battle  still  rages.  An  incessant  stream  of 
American  fire  mows  down  the  foremost  ranks  of  the  enemy, 
while  the  rear  advance  to  be  heaped  on  the  bodies  of  the 
van.  Thrice  they  retreat,  and  thrice  do  their  officers  rally 
them  with  the  point  of  the  sword.  Howe  redoubles  his 
exertions,  and  not  in  vain ;  his  flying  troops  are  once  more 
led  to  the  attack.     Warren  the  volunteer  private, 1  though 

1  Warren  had  been  appointed  on  the  preceding  thirteenth  of  June  a 
major-general,  but  not  to  any  particular  command.  On  the  seventeenth  his 
zeal  led  him  to  the  scene  of  action,  where  he  fell  a  private  soldier.  This 
anecdote,  so  honorable  to  his  memory,  is  not  generally  known. 


AX  ORATION.  385 

a  major-general,  not  less  resolute,  to  equalize  the  combat 
generously  overleaps  the  redoubt  and  wages  war  on  equal 
terms.  The  American  fire  begins  to  suffer  a  relaxation ; 
want  of  ammunition  arrests  the  havoc  of  death.  The 
enemy  are  emboldened,  and  again  begin  the  attack,  this 
time  on  three  sides  at  once.  Warren  falls ;  the  enemy 
are  already  within  the  redoubt.  A  retreat  is  sounded;  but 
the  Americans  either  understand  it  not,  or  refuse  to  hear. 
They  still  sustain  the  unequal  combat ;  their  discharged 
muskets  serve  them  still  as  weapons.  Emulous  of  Her- 
cules, they  convert  their  fire-arms  into  clubs,  and  still 
sustain  the  combat ;  nor  do  they  think  of  retiring  until 
the  fort  is  in  possession  of  the  enemy. 

The  melancholy  pleasure  of  counting  the  slain  is  reserved 
to  the  British.  They  report  the  number  to  be  one  thou- 
sand one  hundred  and  ninty-three.  Of  these,  one  thousand 
and  fifty-four  are  their  brethren.  They  were  brave  men, 
and  worthy  of  a  better  fate  than  to  fall  in  such  a  cause. 

Thus  ended  this  famous  battle,  alike  honorable  to  both 
parties  in  point  of  valor,  —  not  so  in  its  consequences. 
Those  days  are  past ;  let  us  for  the  reputation  of  Britain 
deny  her  adoption  of  a  new  system  of  warfare  which  super- 
seded the  rights  of  humanity.  Those  days  are  past;  let 
time  mellow  our  resentments  into  civility  and  respect,  but 
never  into  affection.  In  the  agitations  of  life,  let  us  give 
them  our  hands,  but  never  trust  them  with  our  hearts. 
The  shades  of  these  martyrs  forbid  the  prostitution. 

It  has  been  hinted  by  some  of  our  invidious  enemies,  who 
neither  fought  nor  saw  the  battle,  that  a  blind  and  mad  valor 
possessed  the  Americans  on  this  occasion.  If  this  insult 
had  proceeded  from  those  who  survived  the  day,  it  might 
merit  an  answer.  Rather  let  us  say  that  it  was  an  intre- 
pidity of  soul  which  caused  them  to  see  danger  as  though 
they  were  not  exposed  to  it,  and  which  led  them  to  brave  it 
25 


386  AN   ORATION. 

as  though  they  saw  it  not.1  It  is  the  prerogative  of  true 
valor  to  discover  itself  full  grown ;  it  requires  no  tardy 
progression.  Discipline  may  direct  it,  practice  may  mod- 
erate its  vehemence,  but  it  disdains  precept  or  example. 
The  indefatigable  Frederic  could  never  fashion  a  coward 
into  a  brave  man.  True  courage  is  equal  to  all  occasions  ; 
it  is  ever  accompanied  with  a  presence  of  mind  which 
coolly  appreciates  every  occurrence,  and  which  no  novelty 
of  surprise  can  disconcert.  Hence  our  undisciplined  and 
unpractised  countrymen  who  fell  on  this  hill,  became 
heroes  in  one  day.  They  immortalized  this  scene ;  they 
severely  resented  the  ungenerous  aspersions,  annihilated 
the  false  suspicions  of  their  enemies,  and  crowned  their 
country  with  that  laurel  which  England  had  asserted 
would  not  flourish  in  America. 

The  contemplation  of  those  monuments  of  blood  which 
ambition  has  reared  to  vain  glory,  the  celebration  of  those 
victories  which  have  made  a  desert  of  the  finest  countries 
without  benefiting  the  conqueror,  may  captivate  the  young 
warrior  whose  sanguinary  ardor  already  promises  a  revelry 
on  human  misery.  But  yonder  monument  was  not  raised 
to  commemorate  the  exploits  of  ambitious  violence,  nor  of 
the  adventurous  warrior.  It  was  not  raised  as  a  boasted 
trophy  of  valor,  nor  as  an  insult  to  the  shades  of  the  enemy ; 
it  was  not  raised  to  flatter  our  own  vanity.  It  was  raised 
for  a  far  nobler  purpose,  —  to  honor  and,  if  possible,  to  fix 
forever  that  principle  which  actuated  those  who  lie  here 
buried.  No ;  on  our  part  it  is  a  monument  of  principle 
against  oppression,  aggravated  by  humiliating  sarcasms 
on  the  courage  of  our  fathers.  On  our  part  we  did  not 
shed   the  blood   of  England    to   serve   the   politics  of   a 

1  Duguay  Trouin  avoit  rei;u  en  partage  cette  intre'pidite'  d'arae  qui  fait 
voir  le  danger,  comme  si  on  n'y  e'toit  pas  expose  ;  et  qui  le  fait  braver,  comme 
si  on  ne  le  voyoit  pas.  —  M.  Thomas. 


AN  ORATION.  387 

corrupt  court;  it  did  not  flow  in  support 'of  a  house  of 
York,  or  of  a  house  of  Lancaster ;  it  did  not  flow  to 
gratify  the  pride  of  conquest.  We  did  not  like  modern 
gladiators  sacrifice  the  blood  of  our  brethren  to  amuse 
the  contending  factions  of  ministers  of  State.  On  our  part 
we  can  lay  our  hands  on  our  bosoms  and  call  Heaven  to 
witness  that  the  blood  which  stained  these  fields  was  jus- 
tifiably spilt.  On  our  part  we  can  tread  this  spot  with  a 
virtuous  emotion ;  and  while  we  contemplate  the  battle, 
the  principle  for  which  we  contended  stands  ready  even  to 
sanctify  the  bloody  consequences.  Yes;  angels  would  not 
have  sullied  their  native  purity  in  pursuing  to  extremity 
the  principle  for  which  we  fought.  Though  they  had  shed 
torrents  of  blood,  and  crimsoned  over  their  spotless  robes, 
Heaven  had  discovered  no  blemish.  Nay,  more;  had  these 
heights  drunk  the  last  drop  of  British  blood,  had  the 
enemy's  bones  whitened  all  the  country  round,  we  might 
have  wept  over  them ;  we  might  have  cursed  the  unhappy 
cause  which  roused  the  angel  of  destruction ;  we  might 
have  forbidden  our  own  feelings  to  have  triumphed  over 
the  lamented  scene, —  yet  we  would  not  have  abjured  the 
principle  that  should  have  triumphed  over  the  ruins  of 
mortality. 

Can  there  be  one  in  this  assembly  who  demands  the  na- 
ture of  this  principle  ?  Oh,  shame  !  If  he  do  not  feel  it. 
why  is  lie  here  ?  If  he  do  not  feci  it  on  this  occasion  para- 
mount over  every  other  sentiment,  the  indignant  shades  of 
these  heroes  forbid  us  to  describe  it.  In  their  name  we 
pronounce  him  alien  to  the  spirit  of  '75,  and  unworthy 
to  appear  among  freemen. 

Let  us  never,  my  fellow-citizens,  define  this  principle  ; 
the  attempt  will  only  weaken  it.  Suffice  it  for  us  that  we 
feel  it ;  suffice  it  for  us,  that  it  appear  in  action  at  the  call 
of  emergency.    The  nobleness  of  this  principle  has  caused 


;>S  AN  ORATION. 

false  patriots  in  every  age  to  disgrace  it ;  hence  many  have 
denied  its  existence,  and  have  defined  it  away  to  nothing. 
This  principle  is  indeed  too  noble,  too  superior  to  the  accus- 
tomed feelings  of  nature,  too  sublime,  to  be  common.  Not 
infrequently,  whole  nations  are  dead  to  its  influence;  but 
the  reality  of  its  existence  is  unquestionable.  It  lias 
appeared  in  the  world  in  different  eras ;  it  appeared  in 
Greece,  —  at  Marathon,  at  Thermopylae,  and  at  the  Straits 
of  Salamis.  I  do  not  know  if  it  appeared  among  the  Re  imans  ; 
for  this  principle  is  not  ambitious  of  conquest,  nor  has  it 
any  concern  with  politics,  nor  is  it  allied  to  motives  of  in- 
terest ;  it  detests  the  bloody  laurels  of  systematic  war,  modi- 
fied into  a  barbarous  commerce  of  loss  and  gain.  Even 
national  glory  is  not  its  object,  though  national  glory  is  ever 
its  consequence.  It  is  indispensably  accompanied  with  an 
enthusiasm  of  valor.  Yet  valor  is  only  a  necessary  incident ; 
neither  your  Alexanders,  nor  Caesars,  nor  the  Swede,  ever 
attained  to  this  principle.  It  appeared,  seventeen  hundred 
years  ago,  in  Great  Britain.  In  more  modern  days  it  ap- 
peared in  the  United  Provinces,  and  rarified  the  congealed 
blood  of  their  inhabitants.  It  once  passed  over  Switzer- 
land, and  in  its  transient  passage  left  a  lasting  monument 
of  its  existence.  In  a  still  later  period  it  appeared  in 
all  its  glory,  though  unsuccessfully,  in  Poland,  and  glowed 
in  the  breast  of  Kosciusko.  Shall  we  dare  speak  it  or 
refrain  ?  We  believe  this  principle  appeared  lately  in  Ire- 
laud.  Need  we  offer  another  instance  ?  We  might,  but  it 
is  unnecessary. 

0  my  countrymen !  excuse  the  fervor  of  enthusiasm  ; 
the  occasion  produces,  and  the  subject  warrants,  the  warm- 
est apostrophe  to  the  noblest  of  principles.  Then  let  me 
urge  home  this  principle  to  the  centre  of  your  hearts,  —  the 
heart  is  its  native  home  ;  there  it  must  inhabit.  That  laurel 
which  adorns  the  brow  of  the  hero,  if  not  rooted  in  his  own 


AX   ORATION  389 

head,  will  soon  wither.  So  this  principle,  to  ennoble  man, 
■  in  him  from  the  dust,  to  fix  his  character,  must  be 
rooted  in  his  heart;  otherwise  it  is  but  a  counterfeit,  a 
splendid  meteor,  aspiring  indeed  to  a  place  among  the 
stars,  but  its  earthly  grossness  shows  itself  long  before  it 
reaches  the  pure  empyrean.  Without  this  principle  you 
must  be  slaves  ;  with  it,  you  must  be  freemen.  This  is 
really  that  magic  wand  which  turns  wretchedness  into  fe- 
licity, the  deserts  of  America  into  a  paradise,  and  man  into 
a  human  god.  Neither  records  nor  monuments  nor  en- 
gravings on  brass  and  marble  can  preserve  it.  If  you  do 
not  keep  it  more  sacredly,  it  will  in  time  steal  from  your 
Constitution,  and  then  your  government  is  already  changed, 
though  your  Constitution  may  remain,  like  the  freedom  of 
Rome,  engraven  on  twelve  tables,  an  honorable  monument 
indeed  to  times  past. 

0  ye  shades  of  martyred  heroes  !  we  will  not  profane 
this  day,  sacred  to  you,  with  a  suspicion  that  you  offered  up 
yourselves  for  one,  two,  or  three,  generations.  The  rich  in- 
heritance which  you  purchased,  your  early  fates  forbade  to 
enjoy.  This  inheritance  came  unimpaired  into  our  posses- 
sion :  and  we  trust,  ever  honored  shades  !  that  the  principle 
which  purchased  our  freedom  descended  with  it !  Before 
this  principle  wings  its  flight  to  more  happy  climes,  we  will 
still  testify  so  much  regard  to  your  memories,  as  to  destroy 
every  vestige  of  this  monument ;  if  we  cannot  remove  these 
.  we  will  give  them  a  new  name,  and  erase  from  our 
annals  every  remembrance  of  this  spot.  We  will  forget 
that  we  once  were  freemen ;  we  will  deny  that  any  battle 
□  tested  here  ;  we  will  deny  that  any  such  man  as 
Warren,  ever  died  for  his  country.  Yes,  injured  shades! 
oblivion  of  your  memories,  denial  of  your  deeds,  destruc- 
tion of  your  monument,  and  contempt  of  freedom  shall  be 
some  little  apology  for  us,  before  we  deny  the  principle  for 


390  AN   ORATION. 

which  you  suffered.  When  those  times  come, —  mortifying 
thought !  —  perhaps  some  one  not  wholly  degenerate,  not 
perfectly  renegade  to  the  glory  of  his  ancestors,  whose 
bosom  still  glows  with  a  flame  in  some  degree  true  to  the 
native  fire  of  his  fathers,  shall  tread  this  scene ;  and  moved 
by  the  genius  of  the  place,  he  will  exclaim,  "  On  this  spot, 
though  the  annals  of  the  country  deny  it,  a  famous  battle 
was  once  fought  in  support  of  freedom.  It  is  said  the  pride 
of  Britain  was  first  humbled  on  these  heights ;  and  that  a 
few  brave  men  under  the  influence  of  a  certain  principle 
now  forgotten  or  despised,  dared  thrice  the  number  of  the 
enemy,  and  by  their  victorious  deaths  restored  the  falling 
fortunes  of  their  country.  Somewhere  on  this  spot,  though 
now  no  memorial  remains,  it  is  reported  a  monument  was 
erected  to  the  memory  of  a  hero  called  Warren,  and  his 
compatriots.  Such  days  were,  though  the  date  is  now 
forgotten.  Yes,  the  feeling  which  the  scene  inspires 
tells  me  such  days  were.  Truly,  our  ancestors  once  reared 
a  most  stupendous  pyramid  of  glory  on  this  spot,  and 
cemented  it  with  their  blood  ;  their  posterity,  an  unworthy 
race,  have  made  a  mockery  of  their  principles,  have  de- 
nied their  deeds,  have  destroyed  their  monument,  have 
forgotten  their  memories,  and  denied  that  they  once  were 
free." 

0  God!  before  this  period  arrives,  grant, —  it  is  a  last 
effusion  of  earnest  supplication,  —  grant  that  some  friendly 
convulsion  of  Nature  may  rend  these  heights  from  their 
lowest  foundation,  and  that  the  overflowings  of  the  ocean 
may  embowel  in  the  darkest  recess  of  the  sea  all  remem- 
brance of  our  disgrace. 

Americans  !  this  cruel  jealousy  of  your  posterity  is  un- 
worthy of  you ;  it  will  dishonor  your  own  reputation.  On 
the  contrary,  we  are  proud  to  believe  that  as  you  in  the 
day  of  your  emergency  "  rose  from  defeat,  and  strengthened 


AX   ORATION.  391 

while  you  bled,"  *  so  your  posterity,  if  occasion  should  de- 
mand, would  on  these  very  heights  revive  the  days  of  '75, 
emulate  your  deeds,  bleed  as  you  bled,  rear  a  second 
monument  by  the  side  of  the  present  to  the  same  prin- 
ciple, and,  in  one  word,  renovate  your  own  selves.  No, 
Americans !  there  is  only  one  view  in  which  we  are  willing 
to  contemplate  this  monument  as  having  been  reared  in 
vain  ;  in  one  respect  it  was  prematurely  raised, —  the  spirit 
which  it  is  designed  to  honor  is  not  yet  fled. 

We  have  now  secured  the  principle,  we  have  seen  the 
action,  and  honorably  repelled  the  insults  of  our  enemies. 
It  now  remains  to  honor  the  memories  of  those  who 
fought,  who  bled,  who  died,  to  repel  the  ungenerous  in- 
sults of  our  enemies,  and  whose  deaths  have  hallowed 
the  scene. 

The  celebration  of  those  who  have  fallen  in  support  of 
the  liberties  of  their  country  is  ever  esteemed  among  free- 
men a  solemn  duty,  nearly  allied  to  piety.  In  the  rudest 
ages  this  custom  had  its  origin.  A  simple  pile  of  stones 
served  both  to  memorialize  their  deeds,  and  to  advertise 
the  traveller  not  to  profane  the  spot,  for  it  was  holy 
ground.  The  tribute  which  a  nation  pays  to  such  patriots 
is  generally  coeval  with  their  liberties.  When  they  cease 
to  be  respected,  it  is  already  too  late  to  inquire  the  cause  ; 
the  reign  of  despotism  is  already  begun.  It  is  dangerous 
to  appeal  to  times  past;  it  is  the  height  of  sedition,  and 

1  This  line,  so  appropriate  to  the  American  character  of  those  days,  is 
from  M  r.  Story,  author  of  the  charming  poem  on  "  Solitude,"  so  well  worthy 
of  the  days  of  Akenside  and  Armstrong. 

[The  late  Mr.  .Instice  Story,  a  classmate  of  the  anthor,  in  one  of  the  notes 
to  his  poem,  entitled  "  The  Power  of  Solitude,"  published  in  1804,  in  quoting 
from  this  Oration,  writes:  "It  deserves  rememhrance  from  its  impartiality, 
its  spirit,  an  1  its  eloquence.  It  would  not  have  disgraced  the  reputation  of 
those  Grecian  orators,  of  whom  Cicero  says,  '  Grandes  erant  verbis,  crcbri 
sententiis,  compressione  rerum  breves.'"  —  Ed.] 


392  AN  ORATION. 

even  worthy  of  death,  to  assert  that  Cassius  was  the  last 
of  the  Romans.1 

Americans,  how  ought  you  to  feel  ?  Under  your  benign 
government  no  honors  are  more  highly  esteemed  nor  more 
liberally  bestowed  than  those  which  are  offered  to  the 
memory  of  patriots  who  died  for  their  country.  How  ought 
you  to  feel  when  the  principle  for  which  your  country- 
men suffered,  and  to  which  you  owe  your  past  and  present 
greatness,  allies  itself  to  the  religion  of  your  country,  and 
is  asserted  in  the  sacred  temple  of  the  Most  High  ?  How 
ought  you  to  feel  when  the  fall  of  those  who  dignified 
these  heights  is  not  with  their  sons  so  great  a  cause  of 
regret  as  envy  of  their  fate  ?  Happy  shades !  you  con- 
vert our  envy  into  the  noblest  passion  ;  for  those  who  envy 
you  most  do  both  you  and  themselves  most  honor. 

Happy  shades !  on  the  morning  of  that  day  which  this 
anniversary  commemorates  began  your  labors;  before  even- 
ing they  were  finished.  One  day  witnessed  your  glory ; 
the  same  day  it  was  perfected.  Your  laurels  were  green 
on  your  brows  ;  they  had  not  time  to  wither,  and  now  they 
never  can.  Happy  shades !  you  did  not  survive  your 
glory  ;  your  passport  to  fame  was  through  the  splendor  of 
your  renown.  The  moment  in  which  you  were  all  you 
could  be,  you  ascended  to  heaven.  Happy  shades !  your 
monument  is  more  durable  than  marble,  more  honorable 
than  any  trophy  which  human  art  has  yet  raised ;  yours  is 
erected  in  the  hearts  of  your  countrymen.  Happy  shades  ! 
though  you  fell  in  the  morning  of  the  Revolution  ;  though 
you  were  forbidden  to  swell  the  triumphs  of  your  fellow- 
citizens  ;  though  no  heavenly  vision  of  your  country's 
approaching  liberty  softened  the  agonies  of  death  and  en- 

1  Cremutius  Cordus,  an  impartial  historian,  had  hestowed  encomiums  on 
Brutus,  and  called  Cassius  the  last  of  the  Romans.  This  was  the  height  of 
seditiou,  and  the  cause  of  his  death. 


AN   ORATION.  398 

raptured  your  departing  spirits,  yet  you  did  not  depart 
without  your  glory ;  you  did  not  depart  without  your 
triumph.  The  indignant  genius  of  your  country  had  de- 
clared that  her  sons  had  lived  as  long  as  life  was  honor- 
able;  you  were  demanded  a  sacrifice;  your  obedience 
consummated  your  glory ;  your  fall  triumphed  over  death. 
Happy  shades !  though  you  fell  among  the  first,  you  shall 
be  honored  among  the  greatest  of  our  worthies.  All  that 
the  living  can  bestow  on  the  dead  shall  be  offered  to  your 
remains.  Virgines,  puerique,  manibus  date  lilia  plenis, 
purpureos  spargite  flores,  animasque  his  saltern  accumulate 
donis.  The  Muses  too  shall  bring  you  their  richest  offer- 
ings. The  majesty  of  History  shall  dignify  you  ;  Poetry 
in  your  praises  shall  lay  claim  to  new  graces  ;  and  Elo- 
quence shall  aspire  to  new  pathos  in  painting  to  your  sons 
what  their  fathers  were.  Happy  shades  !  some  bard  shall 
yet  arise  to  do  you  justice ;  some  orator  shall  yet  appear 
worthy  the  subject,  capable  of  feeling,  capable  of  asserting, 
and  capable  of  infusing  into  every  breast  that  principle 
which  you  died  to  support.  Happy  shades  1  what  more 
can  we  say  in  your  praise  ?  All  your  own  sufferings  and 
all  the  succeeding  complicated  miseries  of  your  brethren 
did  not  half  satisfy  the  purchase  which  we  enjoy.1  What 
more  can  we  say  in  your  praise  ?  Should  Heaven  in  wrath 
sink  us  this  day  into  slaves,  we  have  already  been  free, 
and  you  stand  acquitted. 

Citizen  soldiers!  before  we  leave  these  heights,  permit 
me  to  address  one  word  to  yourselves.  While  you  testify 
your  own  principles  in  commemorating  the  days  of  Anier- 

1  "  A  day,  an  hoar,  of  virtuous  freedom 
Is  worth  a  whole  eternity  in  bondage." 
Thns  Roman  Cato  thought,  and  thus  Addison  spoke.     If  the  sentiment  be 
just,  our  liberties  were  cheaply  purchased  with  a  seven-year  war 


394  AN  ORATION. 

ican  glory,  your  fellow-citizens  are  not  regardless  of  an- 
other circumstance,  equally  interesting  to  their  feelings. 
How  much  is  the  pleasure  of  this  day  enhanced  in  con- 
templating the  most  dignified  ohject  which  a  free  people 
can  witness,  —  the  patriot  soldier,  equally  ready  to  take  up 
or  lay  down  his  arms  in  obedience  to  the  laws  !  Behold, 
soldiers,  what  confidence  your  fellow-citizens  repose  in 
you  !  May  you  never  —  you  never  will  — betray  that  con- 
fidence. But  if  these  States  ever  do  lose  their  liberties,  it 
will  be  when  the  soldier  ceases  to  be  the  citizen.  Cherish, 
then,  the  principles  of  your  fathers,  and  in  peace  you  shall 
be  regarded  not  as  soldiers,  but  citizens ;  in  war  you 
shall  be  respected  as  the  safeguard  of  the  Republic.  In 
peace  you  shall  repose  under  the  wing  of  our  Constitution ; 
in  war  our  Constitution  shall  repose  under  your  protection. 
May  you  ever  be  prepared  to  assume  the  soldier ;  but 
never,  oh,  never  may  you  cease  to  be  the  citizen. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

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or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 
Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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University  of  California 

Berkeley 

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